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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22768834">In the Shade of an Old Apple Tree</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MustardGal/pseuds/MustardGal'>MustardGal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In the Shade [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Alternate Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, no TB</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22768834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MustardGal/pseuds/MustardGal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur miraculously survives the encounter with Micah and the Pinkertons, thanks to the mysterious Francis Sinclair.  He finds himself whisked away to New York City by Mary Linton and Albert Mason, who promise to help him back on his feet.  Suddenly in high life society, he finds himself earning a living legally for the first time, though he struggles to adjust to the demands of high society.  He regrets leaving Sadie Adler behind, with words left unsaid between them…</p><p>Meanwhile, Sadie Adler is running for her life, traveling with John, Abigail, and Jack.  It seems like the Pinkertons are at every stop, every corner, and they read in the papers of Arthur Morgan’s death.  This hardens Sadie, and she and the others must find ways to restart their lives.   A novella.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Mary Gillis Linton/Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler/Arthur Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In the Shade [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He’s gone, Arthur.”</p><p>Sweat dripped down Arthur’s bare back as he looked about the room frantically, heart thundering in his chest, before his eyes finally settled on a concerned Mary Linton.  She held onto his hand in a death grip, her voice and eyes pleading with him. Her dark hair was loose, about her shoulders in a messy tumble, and she wore a modest, lacey nightgown.  Candlelight reflected in her captivating eyes, which Arthur had trouble looking away from.  </p><p>He had no memory how he had gotten here.  His last memory had been fighting with Micah, being left by Dutch – Arthur gasped and fell back on the bed, his whole body shuddering at the memory.  Dutch hadn’t cared. He had left Arthur behind without a second glance.  </p><p>“Did they get away?  John?” Arthur heaved out through choked breaths.  His voice was scratchy; he had no idea how long it had been since that moment. </p><p>Mary bit her lip.  “I- I don’t know, Arthur.  All I know is what the papers say.  They say you died on that hillside. That the van der Linde gang is no more, but Dutch – he escaped.  He’s still out there.”</p><p>Arthur was silent.  He looked about the room and saw he was in some slump of a room, with a broken window and glass splattered about.  The furniture in the room was decaying or broken, and the bed he laid on was lumpy and had a peculiar smell to it. This wasn’t a usual place for Mary.  What was she doing in a dump like this?</p><p>“You were screaming about Micah,” she said.  “Is he the one who done this to you?”</p><p>Arthur looked down at his black and blue torso and gave a slight nod.  His ribs were more visible than he liked; his muscle had wilted away to nothing.  The wrath of tuberculosis had plagued him for months, weakening his body, forcing him into awful coughing episodes.  It was strange, really. He didn’t feel the disease in his lungs. He had thought that night on the mountainside with Micah would be his last.</p><p>Mary let out a long sigh and let go of his hand.  “You must have a lot of questions. I, too, have many myself.  How long have you had tuberculosis?”</p><p>“’bout half a year,” Arthur mumbled.  He licked his lips; they were chapped to high heaven.  He accepted a glass of water from Mary and drank heavily.  Despite being only water, it tasted divine. He handed her back the empty glass and settled back down in the bed.  “How am I not dead, Mary? I felt it, you know. I felt death in my bones, my body…”</p><p>“This man named Francis Sinclair.  He’s not here right now, but he’s… peculiar.  And knew where to find you. He brought you here, and guided me here.  He says… you’re to take these pills. It’ll help treat the tuberculosis, he says.  But he vanished the same night we got you here.”</p><p>Sinclair.  Arthur knew him.  Barely. He had sent him locations of odd drawings – and had returned to find Francis Sinclair as a baby.  It was too crazy to think of, too insane to think Francis Sinclair had been… whatever he had been. “The man didn’t even know I had TB,” Arthur said.  “How long I been out, then?”</p><p>“At least a week.  I’ve had help from an Albert Mason, who says you are a friend?”</p><p>Arthur raised an eyebrow.  “Albert Mason? This story keeps gettin’ crazy by the minute, Mary.”</p><p>“I know.”  Mary leaned over and tucked in the heavy blanket around him.  “You need to get some sleep. Albert had agreed to escort us out of here whenever you’re ready to move.”</p><p>Exhaustion lingered in his limbs.  Arthur watched Mary move to another cot and climb under the blankets.  With a soft smile to him, she blew out the candle and the cabin was filled with darkness. </p><p>It left Arthur feeling very much alone.  He could hear the screaming from Micah, the few words from Dutch, the last look at John’s worried face – everyone was scattered.  The gang was dead. Arthur’s duty to them – was dead. He had made peace with everything on the mountainside, thinking death was around the corner.  He had died, he was sure of it.  </p><p>But as he heard Mary breathing softly, the slight breeze brushing against the trees, the crickets and coyotes… he knew there was something out there calling him back.  Death wasn’t ready for him. Not yet.</p>
<hr/><p>He woke to Mary bustling around the cabin, the smell of bacon and eggs in the air.  She had dressed into a simple blue dress, which stood out in bright contrast against the broken shack behind her.  She was grumbling to herself as she kicked out a small rat, fury on her face as she looked around for more. That was Mary.  Never used to a life outdoors.  </p><p>“You’re awake,” she said, catching his eye. “Are you feeling well enough to get dressed?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’m,” he responded in a cracked voice.  In all honesty, he was still feeling like a freight train had ran over him a hundred times over, but his limbs were screaming for some movement.  He started to sit up when Mary walked over and helped him.</p><p>She said, “Oh, Arthur.  You’ve gotten so thin. There’s not one ounce of muscle on you.”</p><p>Arthur shifted his feet to the floor with a grunt and blinked away the stars and the dizziness.  Mary adjusted the blanket around his waist – he was completely bare, only covered in thick, bloodied bandages – and moved to grab the plate of food on the table.</p><p>“I’ll get better,” Arthur said.  He accepted the food, his eyes nearly watering at the sight of the simple bacon and eggs.  He hadn’t enjoyed food in so long. His stomach ached something fierce, and he savored the taste.</p><p>“Mr. Mason returned with some clothing for you, I’ll go fetch him-“ Mary left and quickly returned with a grinning Albert Mason in tow.</p><p>“Mr. Morgan!  I’m so glad you’re awake!”  Albert said. He looked the same, dressed in fine clothing, his beard freshly trimmed.  “You’re looking better with every hour.”</p><p>Arthur wanted to chuckle, but his chest hurt too much.  “You don’t have to lie to me, Albert.”</p><p>Albert grabbed a broken stool and dusted it off.  He sat on it carefully. “Ah, well. You’re no longer look a step away from death, so there’s that.”  </p><p>“Mr. Mason and I have been talking…” Mary began and sat down on her cot.  “The papers say you’re dead, Arthur. But we’re still close to the Pinkertons.  Too close for comfort. They and bounty hunters are out and about for the rest of the gang.  Mr. Mason has seen a few patrols on the roads. We best get you out of this state, to be safe.”</p><p>Arthur chewed on a strip of bacon.  “I thought we would find John-“</p><p>“No,” Mary said firmly.  “Look what they done to you, Arthur.  You were crying in your sleep about how Dutch left you.  Don’t deny it. Your own… father, basically… left you. Hosea’s gone, I read that.  There isn’t anything left you here.”</p><p>“John’s… he’s my brother, Mary.”</p><p>“And he thinks you’re dead.”</p><p>“How?” Arthur questioned them both.  “There’s no body left for them to discover.”</p><p>“Pinkertons claim they saw your body burn.  Your weapons, clothing, your hat – it all matched.  Sinclair made it convincing, he said,” Albert Mason reasoned.  “It was more than enough for them.”</p><p>“I can’t leave them-“</p><p>Mary stood, her fists clenched at her sides.  “Always you and the damn gang!” she exploded, tears in her eyes.  “You and your stubborn loyalty, Arthur Morgan. You need to live for yourself for once!  And what do you have to go on? You have no money, no weapons, no horse, no gang. There is nothing for you here.”</p><p>Arthur flushed and looked down at his empty plate, angry at her truthful words.  She was right. John could take care of himself. The women in camp were taken care of.  Sadie – his sucked in a breath thinking of her. Beautiful Sadie. He hadn’t wanted to think of her – they hadn’t been an item, per say, but there had been a spark there, one had wished to pursue more, had life gone right.</p><p>He could always come back, later.  Once he was completely healed and had the means to continue on.  There wasn’t even a cent to his name at the moment. He wished Sadie was there right now, with her temper and determination to go on. </p><p>But she wasn’t, and for once, Arthur’s burden of his gang was lifted from his shoulders, though it was difficult to fathom.  </p><p>“We… Arthur.  I have to return to New York,” Albert said, his voice light.  “Mary and I find ourselves close neighbors, in fact. I can find you a simple job.  I have a small apartment there, and there’s a spare bedroom for you. We can get you started over, Arthur.”</p><p>“My brother’s going to college there, as well,” Mary sniffed and sat back down on the bed.  “Jamie has found work at an orchard farm, as well. He wouldn’t mind having you around.”</p><p>New York.  A few state lines away from all of this.  A few state lines away from Sadie, John, Abigail.  The thought of losing them hurt more than anything.  But Mary and Albert offered stability, a future, for surely Arthur had none if he stayed where he was.  </p><p>“Let me think on it,” Arthur said tightly, and that was that.</p>
<hr/><p>A week later, when the rain had cleared and the skies were bright and blue, Arthur stood alone in the cabin, his mind completely made up.  </p><p>He would leave.</p><p>Albert had gone out and bought the local papers.  The gang had disappeared without a trace, and the Pinkertons were still on the hunt.  Arthur hoped beyond hope John had headed west, or to a state that didn’t have a wanted poster with his name on it.  It was pointless to track John down. He wouldn’t want to be found. If the Pinkertons were struggling, so would Arthur. </p><p>Arthur’s bruises had faded to dark yellows, his eyes had finally become less swollen and he could stand straight without getting light headed.  Riding a horse was out of the question. His limbs were still exhausted, his lungs still ached from time to time, but the pills Sinclair had left him seemed to be working.  There was exactly one crate of pills, which would last him a few months. Arthur wouldn’t question how Sinclair had come across such a treatment. It was a hope Arthur would continue to live, that tuberculosis would no longer be a threat.</p><p>He was tired of being cooped up in the tiny cabin.  The plan was to ride out that morning. Arthur had donned on crisp, dark pants, a white shirt, and a dark blue vest.  The jacket he wore was lined, fit nicely and brand new – Albert had spared no expense in purchasing a new wardrobe for Arthur.  Lastly, Arthur had decided to grow his beard in, and wore a simple town hat to match his clothing. Nobody would question him, and if they did, Arthur would go by a new name.</p><p>“What would that be?” Albert had questioned him.  “The good ole’ Tacitus Kilgore?”</p><p>“No.  Adler.  Arthur Adler.”</p><p>“Still too close to your name,” Mary reasoned.  “How about Atticus Adler? It’s such a lovely name.”</p><p>Atticus.  Of course Mary had chosen that name.  In another lifetime, that had been the name she had wanted to name her future child.  They had talked about it, once. It seemed like so long ago. “Fine. Atticus it is.”</p><p>It felt like a foreign name, like it didn’t belong to him.  And of course it didn’t. He supposed over time he would have to get used to it.  </p><p>They left that morning just as the sun crested through the trees.  He sat in a wagon with Mary, and Albert trailed behind on his horse.  </p><p>“You’ll like it,” Albert said a few hours down the road.  “New York City, that is. My, it’s a bustling place. Have you ever been?”</p><p>“Can’t say I have,” Arthur said, flicking the reins encouragingly as the horses waded through a tiny stream.  Mary sat behind him, her head drooping sleepily. He was still confused as to why it was Mary who Sinclair had recruited to tend to him.  He would have to ask her why she agreed; they hadn’t talked much, despite being cooped up in a cabin together. Too many unspoken words filled the air between them, and they weren’t ready to bare all to each other.   Arthur had simply thought he had seen the last of her, after helping her find her father a few months ago.  </p><p>The air was thick between them, like it always had been.  The attraction was still there. Arthur had moved on – or had tried to, with Sadie.  And he had. There was no going back to what it had been with Mary. Instead, he hoped they could become friends.  It felt like they were strangers, most of the time, despite knowing each other inside and out.</p><p>Albert was rambling on.  “My family, terrors that they are, own a rather large house and are very well off.  They never approved of me traveling, taking photographs, you see. Wanted me to be a businessman.  Well, I’m a bit too old now for them to think any different, but they still provided me with an apartment I can call home.  We’ll stay there a while, Arthur, until you’re on your feet.”</p><p>Time seemed to pass as a blur to Arthur as they traveled.  It turned out the Pinkertons were no longer an issue as they went, no one questioned who they were, where they were going.  Arthur felt naked, traveling without a gun at his hip, knowing at any moment they could be robbed. Mary and Albert insisted this was for the best, that there would be no issue.  Arthur was doubtful, but eventually relented. He would travel without a gun for their sake. They didn’t want him causing a ruckus or drawing attention. That was fine. For now.</p><p>Once they reached a train station outside of Lemoyne and any place Arthur could be recognized, they bought train tickets and would ride all the way to the city.  Arthur watched the passing scenery from his train seat, still not believing he was headed to the city.  The summer was nearing an end, and the chill of fall threatening to begin. They passed through all sorts of towns, some large, some small, and they all were getting impatient from the constant travel.  </p><p>Arthur tried to take a nap as Albert and Mary made quiet conversation on the home stretch to the city.  He fell asleep easily, dreaming of Sadie. He regretted leaving her something fierce. They hadn’t promised love to one another – Arthur had refused any mention of love, knowing he would be dead in a few months.  He couldn’t have done that to Sadie, dying on her like her husband, with a promise of love between them.  </p><p>He was alive now.  Life had him headed in another direction entirely.  Maybe it was better off she thought he was dead. She could move on.  Arthur knew he couldn’t. Maybe, when life was looking up for him, he could go looking for her.  Maybe.  </p><p>The strong smell of manure stirred Arthur awake.  He blinked away the grogginess and forced himself to sit up.  He blearily followed Albert and Mary out of the train, his tired limbs struggling to keep up.  He could hear the chatter around him, the chime of incoming trains, and nearly blanched at the tall buildings surrounding him.  He was instantly reminded of St. Denis, with the sky clouded by black smoke, people of all ages crowding the streets, the buildings tight and practically on top of one another.  He looked front and back, and saw the streets continued on forever.</p><p>They traveled deeper into the city.  Arthur was sorely regretting his choice of agreeing to come here.  There were no rolling hills, no lush trees – the streets were filled with horse shit, muddy as far as the eye could see, street rats running about robbing people blind.  Store fronts were filled with restaurants, tailors, butcher shops, bookstores… too many to count. People cluttered the sidewalks and the streets.  </p><p>It would take some getting used to, to be sure.</p><p>Albert looked back at him and gave him a nervous smile.  The smell of murky water filled the air and they halted on a wooden pier, offering a glimpse at the sea.  People moved to and fro, going about their busy lives. “You see that?” Albert pointed out into the water.  He handed Arthur binoculars.  </p><p>Arthur squinted and found a tall, copper statue out on the water.  She held a torch and stood proudly, a stark contrast against the city behind her.      </p><p>Albert cleared his throat.  “That’s the Statue of Liberty, in all its proper glory.  It represents freedom, and the like. Welcome to New York City, Arthur Morgan.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sadie Adler moved with quiet ease as she followed the overgrown path to where she had left her traps.  She had already caught a rabbit in a prior trap and had it currently slung over her shoulder. One more, and it would be enough meat for her and the others.  Abigail had attempted to prepare dinner and had failed – miserably. It made Sadie miss Pearson’s stew something fierce, but she wouldn’t be the one to admit that to Abigail.</p><p>They were currently living, more like surviving, in a rundown building somewhere north of the Grizzlies. They were a state line away from wanted posters of the van der Lindes – John’s face was plastered all over Lemoyne and New Hanover.  He stood out like a sore thumb with his scars, and they kept traveling north to get farther away from anyone who might put two and two together.</p><p>Agent Milton was done with.  Agent Ross, however… he would keep looking for them, Sadie was sure of it.  She had vowed to Arthur to keep them safe, and safe she would keep them. That meant getting farther away as fast as they could.</p><p>She found her second trap and quickly killed the rabbit caught in the trap.  She would have to hurry back soon. It was getting dark, and poor Abigail was going stir crazy, with John kept up at home.  They bickered – a lot. But Sadie could see the unspoken love between them. It was something worth fighting for, something she had to protect.  For Arthur’s and Jack’s sakes.</p><p>It had been a couple of weeks after abandoning Arthur on the mountainside.  Sadie had tried to go back, had scouted around in search of anything leading to Arthur’s well being.  Pinkertons had swarmed the area and left, no doubt in pursuit of Dutch, who the papers claimed was still alive.  That left Sadie free to do with what she willed – and she found absolutely nothing. No tracks, no trace of where Arthur could have gone.  She spent several days combing through the dirt, only to find out nothing.</p><p>It was when she returned to Abigail and John, finding her in tears, and John in a huffing rage.  They had a paper in their hands. Abigail had handed her the paper with shaking hands, and Sadie went white reading the front page.</p><p>“ARTHUR MORGAN of the VAN DER LINDE GANG – DEAD.  Pinkertons found his body torched in a fiery inferno, but inside sources have confirmed that it was, in fact, the body of ARTHUR MORGAN.  He had a bounty of $5,000 on his head, one of the largest bounties around!”</p><p>Numb.  That’s what Sadie felt.  She had put dinner on the table, had comforted Jack with a hug, and had moved the family the next morning.  She couldn’t think. She didn’t want to feel that Arthur was gone – he couldn’t be. No. She wouldn’t think of it.  She would not resort into a fiery rage because Arthur was not <em> gone. </em></p><p>There was nothing for her to do but keep the Marston family <em> safe. </em>  And so she did.</p><hr/><p>“Can I help you boys?” Sadie asked two men who trotted their horses along besides her.  She was not in the mood for discussion. She was hungry and tired, and not ready to be polite.</p><p>“We were wondering if you seen anyone mysterious about here, ma’am,” one of the men said.  He was around her age with a tanned, rough face, a shotgun and rifle on his saddle. There was also rope and a greedy look in his eye.  He wasn’t interested in her. This man was a bounty hunter, along with his friend.</p><p>“I haven’t,” Sadie said sweetly as she could, nearly flinching at her own voice.  Best to throw them off the tracks. “I been goin’ this way for quite some time now, and I ain’t seen anyone… mysterious like.”</p><p>His buddy, a middle aged man with a gut, smiled sweetly at her.  “You sure you ain’t seen someone, sweetheart?”</p><p>“Oh! As a matter of fact…” Sadie looked around, more to the direction of somewhere south, the opposite direction of where the Marstons were located.  “I did catch someone cuttin’ through the trees, all hurried like. Black hair, I think? They was tryin’ to remain hidden somethin’ desperate.”</p><p>The two bounty hunters shared glances.  It was probably the only tip they’d had so far.  “Thank you, ma’am,” the older man said, and they scuttled away to be quickly swallowed by the trees.  </p><p>Sadie frowned.  Those were the first bounty hunter’s she’d seen this far. She would have killed them if they caused an issue, but… she and John had agreed to remain low.  No killing. If they were to live a new life, they’d have to start as normal civilians. Any bloodshed would lead right to them, and then Arthur’s death would have been for naught.</p><p>Death.  Sadie shook her head.  She refused to believe it.  Not yet. <em> Not yet. </em></p><p>She returned to where she had left John and Abigail, fixed them a simple meal, and had them prepare to move out the next morning.  Bounty hunters were no joke, and they’d have to reach another state line to feel comfortable.  </p><p>They traveled by wagon, Arthur’s horse tethered to the back and Sadie following on her own horse.  Before they had left, she had taken one of Arthur’s horses he had left behind at a stable. It was a paint horse, white with a scattering of brown spots.  Arthur had simply called him Freckles. Another horse could prove useful, and she didn’t want the horse wasting away in a stable, waiting for Arthur to come back.  </p><p>It was a few days before they hovered outside a simple town, simply called Roseville, eyeing it for possibilities.  From the hill Sadie could point out a few different stores and several rows of houses. A bit larger than Valentine, and judging from the factory in the distance, it was some sort of lumber town or sawmill.  Towns like these could always use an extra hand, she just wasn’t sure John was up for the task.  </p><p>They settled on the outskirts, under a gathering of trees.  John took care of the wagon while Abigail and Jack began building a campfire.</p><p>A train sounded in the distance as it prepared to depart from the town, cast in a golden light from the setting sun.  </p><p>“You think we far enough away?” John asked her as he worked on skinning a rabbit.  The past few weeks of hard travel had been hard on all of them. Dark bags crested under John’s eyes, betraying how tired he actually felt.  “We ain’t never been this far north before.”</p><p>“I think so,” Sadie said as she grabbed the basket of food.  The money left over from the last mission was more than enough to last them several months to a year.  Still, she had used it sparingly and had purchased enough food for traveling. “I figure tomorrow morning we ask around, see if there’s a house to rent.  Abigail and I will look for work. Your best shot would probably be at the lumberyard, John. You should probably head there first.”</p><p>“I appreciate you stayin’ with us,” Abigail smiled at her in a soft voice.  “We’ll be back on our feet, I’m sure.”</p><p>Sadie had promised Arthur they would.  The last evening they had seen each other - Arthur, dressed in his best, wearing his most expensive clothing.  Beard shaved, his hair slicked back. His eyes red, his cheeks hollow and discolored. What he had once been - a well muscled man, thick in arms and back and strong in strength - lingered no more.  Arthur had become an empty shell of his former self, a man weak, defeated by his beliefs, his tuberculosis, and betrayed by his most trusted father figure. He was a man prepared to die.</p><p>Sadie had left him behind, praying beyond all hope he would return to them.  She had seen Abigail reunited with John, with Jack, had seen their happy smiles and knew it had been the right choice. </p><p>But seeing their happiness caused a small pain in her heart.   Ever since the passing of her Jake, she’d had a hole in her heart, cleanly ripped out and stomped on by the O’Driscolls.  With each death of an O’Driscoll, she’d begun stitching her heart back together again. Arthur had helped with that. His friendship, his kind words, his stolen smiles when they made eye contact.  It helped her keep a grasp on reality, on life.  </p><p>Arthur was her best friend and suddenly lost to her, and once again, her heart had been splayed open.  This time, there were no O’Driscolls to kill. She didn’t know how to properly heal. So she’d focus on Abigail, John, Jack, and keep them safe until they didn’t need her anymore.</p><p>The next morning, they made their way into Roseville with a simple intent of finding work.  John left them for the lumberyard, and Sadie went to find the nearest restaurant. The ground was slick with mud and horseshit, reminding her very much of Valentine.  The sky was spitting out a few sprinkles, but the town folk seemed used to the rain.  </p><p>Despite the odd glances to her because of her pants and lack of skirts, the overall mood of the town seemed friendly.  The buildings were well kept and freshly painted. Children laughed as they followed their parents in the streets, and the adults chatted lightheartedly.  </p><p>“You think they’d want me?” Abigail asked Sadie as they stood outside a small restaurant, simply named Beth’s Cafe, which was crammed in a row of tightly laced buildings.  Through the window they could see several customers enjoying breakfast and waiters moving about hurriedly. It was a popular place, to be sure.</p><p>“I don’t see why not,” Sadie replied.  “It won’t hurt. We need to start establishing some roots, Abigail.  It can’t hurt to try.”</p><p>Abigail stopped to look at her reflection in the glass and fiddled with her hair.  She had chosen one of her better skirts and blouses to make a better impression. “It’s been awhile since I been back in civilization.  Do you think-”</p><p>“It’ll be fine.” Sadie grabbed Jack’s hand and shooed Abigail in.  “Off you go. I’ll take Jack to the store in the meantime.”</p><p>Abigail smiled hesitantly.  “Yes, okay. Wish me luck.” She ruffled Jack’s hair and went inside the cafe.</p><p>“What’s gonna happen to me?” Jack asked Sadie, confusion on his face.  </p><p>“Well…” Sadie held his hand tight as they crossed the street.  “You gonna go to school here soon, Jack. You gonna keep learnin’ your letters and the like.”</p><p>“I do like reading,” Jack said.  He seemed happy with her answer.  </p><p>Abigail had mentioned school as they talked about settling down, about getting Jack back to learning.  It seemed like a good idea… if John could keep his head cool. The instant someone suspected something, they’d have to leave, meaning Jack would have to be taken away from school, away from friends he may have made.  They all would have to stay strong and vigilant. </p><p>Half an hour later, Sadie and Jack were sitting on a bench outside the store, both munching on a chocolate bar.  Jack chatted away while Sadie watched the townsfolk go about their busy lives. There were a few people dressed nicely, as if they were made of money.  Most folk dressed simply, but not poorly. It was a prosperous town, to be certain.</p><p>Abigail left the cafe, a smile wide on her face.  “Sadie!” she called across the street. She pranced across and sat down next to them in a flurry.  “You won’t believe - I got the job!”</p><p>“That’s great!” Sadie said, squeezing Abigail’s hand.  “Not cookin’, I hope?”</p><p>“No,” Abigail said, ignoring the tease, “just a waitress.  Apparently, the last girl got pregnant and married, and deemed herself unfit to work.  They’ll want me five days a week, workin’ nights. That way, I can be at home most of the day, and John can watch Jack at night.”</p><p>“Let’s hope John is just as successful,” Sadie mused.  “Come, let’s head back.”</p><p>John didn’t return home until the sun was setting.  He groaned as he sat down next to the fire and accepted a cup of coffee from Abigail.  “Don’t fret, Abigail. They hired me right on the spot. It’s simple pay, but with both of us workin’...”</p><p>“What kinda work are you doing?” Jack asked him, his face stuffed full of potatoes.  Abigail leaned over and dusted his messy cheeks with a napkin, much to his disdain.  </p><p>“We cut trees,” John said and dug into a plate of his own potatoes.  </p><p>Abigail sat beside him.  “Ain’t that dangerous, though?”</p><p>“It can be.  I’m lucky they’re letting me return tomorrow, considerin’ the mistakes I made.  Oh, and there’s a room for rent on a farm not far from here. It ain’t much, but we can check it out tomorrow.”  </p><p>Sadie shared a glance with Abigail.  So far, things seemed to be looking up for this new place.  The only problem, Sadie herself didn’t know what she wanted to do.  She also didn’t want to intrude on their space. They hadn’t had a chance to live as a family on their own, and she couldn’t be a third wheel forever.  </p><p>It was the next morning when John was shaking hands with the farmer, standing outside a small house, simple in nature but well preserved.  It merely boasted two rooms, a small kitchen with a small living room. It already had basic enough furniture leftover from the previous tenants.  A house big enough for Abigail and John, but not Sadie. She helped them move in, further determining she was following the best course for herself.</p><p>“I ain’t gonna stay,” she said lightly as they sat at the beaten up kitchen table.  John had already taken off for his second day at the sawmill, leaving them the job of unpacking. “I’ll rent a room in town, Abigail.  Find some work for myself.”</p><p>Abigail sat across from her, disappointment on her face.  It sputtered rain and a thunderstorm rumbled in the distance.  “We wouldn’t have made it this far without you pushin’ us, Sadie.  I can ask if there’s some work available-”</p><p>“No,” Sadie cut her off.  She glanced at her rifle, propped up near the front door.  It was a beautiful rifle, one Arthur had gifted her. The grip was carved with an elk, the wood polished a dark brown, and the silver gleaming in the sunlight.  “I’m gonna stop by the sheriff, see if there’s any wanted posters around. I’ll make sure not to draw any attention.”</p><p>“Just you bein’ in pants draws enough,” Abigail said wryly.  “But you’re smart. I don’t know, Sadie… but I can’t stop you.  I just…” she turned real quiet as she looked at Jack sitting in the corner of the living room, doodling in the journal Arthur had bought him.  “John don’t need that anymore.”</p><p>“I won’t drag him along,” Sadie said firmly.  “This is a good town. It’s prosperous. You have to keep your head low, though.  I know that’s tough for John and all. I’ll stay another month or two… but, I might have to travel for bounties.”</p><p>Abigail put a hand on her arm.  “You’ll always be welcome back.”</p><p>She left late afternoon after she helped Abigail unpack.  She hugged Abigail fiercely before she went, promising to be back as soon as she was able.  They were safe, for now.. They had a future, a goal in front of them. To be a real family for once.  </p><p>Sadie… well.  She felt lost.  There wasn’t any Arthur to talk her thoughts with, or go on any adventures with.  Charles had left her, as well. The other ladies went their own way. Everyone was taken care of and safe.  Sadie had no one but herself.  </p><p>She left her horse Bob with them.  It felt right, somehow, to take Arthur’s horse on an adventure.  She went straight into Roseville and to the sheriffs, mentally preparing herself for the jeers of the men.  A bounty hunter, not unusual. A woman bounty hunter, on the other hand… it was completely unheard of.  </p><p>An older sheriff sat at the desk, writing away on a piece of paper.  He looked up and lifted a furred eyebrow as he looked to Sadie’s legs up to her face.  “Can I help you?” he asked her, pushing up his weathered hat higher on his head.</p><p>“I’m here to look at the bounties,” she said casually, her gaze stopping on a board full of papers.  They were dozens of paper pinned to the board, a giant X through most of them. Clearly, the sheriff was proud to display which ones had been taken care of.  </p><p>“Is your husband-”</p><p>“Just me,” Sadie cut in.  She pulled off a bounty and peered over it.  A Frank Roberts, wanted for robbery and alive for fifty bucks.  “You got any tips on this guy?”</p><p>The sheriff set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, clearly skeptical.  “Those are for bounty hunters, dear.”</p><p>Sadie folded up the paper, trying her best not to glare at the man.  “And you got yourself one. Like I said, any tips?” </p><p>It was a moment before he answered.  “Try east, outside town. Might be squatting in an old shed down there.  He’s been a master at avoiding us.”</p><p>“It’s done, I-” Sadie stilled as a certain poster caught her eye.  Morgan. The rest of the name was hidden behind a stack of papers. She pushed them aside and tugged the paper off the nail.  Arthur Morgan. A crude sketch of Arthur’s image was drawn on it, only a glimmer of his actual face. Reward: $5,000. Her heart thumped against her chest. </p><p>“Oh, I forgot to cross that one out!” the sheriff exclaimed and stood up.  “He’s been killed, ma’am. He’s not-”</p><p>“I understand,” Sadie said, her voice thick.  She took a step back, Arthur’s wanted poster still in her hands.  She needed air. “I’ll be back with Roberts, sheriff,” she muttered and stumbled out of the building.  She bumped into somebody's shoulder on the way out and barely glanced at him.  </p><p>She was on Freckles and racing away from the town, letting the wind caress her face and hair as they rushed away, headed in god knows where.  A million thoughts were racing through her mind, yet she couldn’t sort a single one of them out. It wasn’t until a rattlesnake startled the horse and Freckles jerked  this way and that, nearly tossing Sadie from her saddle. </p><p>They stopped once she had the horse under control, both horse and Sadie breathing heavily.  She still gripped the poster, staring deeply at the crude drawing of Arthur’s face. Her hand was shaking.  She’d caught up to the thunder, which brought an onslaught of rain. She didn’t care. The rain soaked her jacket, her hair. She’d lost her hat somewhere along the way.  </p><p>A lone tear crept down her face and she wiped it away angrily.  She hadn’t cried once, not once, since she had last seen Arthur.  The thought of him actually gone… her friend, the man she had started to care for, not only as a friend, but as a… she let out a sob, and let herself cry for the first time in weeks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arthur couldn’t sleep.  It wasn’t that his new bed was uncomfortable.  On the contrary, he hadn’t slept on a bed this comfortable in years.  Sleeping on cots, the hard rocky ground, lumpy hotel beds… he could get used to this bed.   It was like sleeping on a fluffy cloud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No.  It was the uneasiness that had settled into the depths of his stomach of not knowing how Sadie and the others were doing.  They were such a distance away that news wouldn’t reach him for months. He wanted to do nothing more than travel back and hunt them down, showing he was alive and well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary argued it was better that way, that he should continue living here - a life where he was just another man.  Not an outlaw, a murderer, a thief. Just a man who could live by the law and succeed, now that he wasn’t bound to his gang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur wanted to argue she was wrong.  But, as his lungs still protested long distances, his limbs still weak, he promised he would stay.  For the meantime. There would be a time in the future he would return. He missed the companionship he had with Sadie, Abigail, and the rekindled friendship with John. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The morning rays crept through the shades and Arthur threw his blankets aside in disgust.  He had only gotten a few hours of sleep, if that. He grabbed a white robe, one of Albert’s, and pulled it on before he went to the living room.  He would prepare some coffee and butter some bread, and wait for Albert to wake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was another hour until Albert came out of his room, hair and beard askew from sleep.  He was dressed in a robe like Arthur and blinked blearily at him sitting in the living room.  “Can’t sleep again, eh?” Albert said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Fraid so,” Arthur murmured into his coffee.  He still found it so odd sitting in a living room, not having to fight off mosquitoes or flies.  He was wearing a robe, for christ sakes, something he had never once thought to wear. “Thank you again, Albert, for lettin’ me stay here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Albert frowned at him and slowly poured himself a cup of coffee.  “You don’t have to thank me every morning, Arthur. This is your home as long as you want it.  You… you are a man who deserves a second chance, and this is it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur considered his words and glanced over the apartment.  It was rather large, with two main bedrooms, a large kitchen, living room, plus a den where Albert developed many of his pictures.  It was spacious, certainly large enough for a family. Albert claimed his parents had decorated it, and Arthur believed him. It was filled with paintings, rugs, ornamental decor, plush pillows of blue and white… all items that seemed out of the ordinary for a bachelor such as Albert.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I have to run off on a few errands… are you going to be okay by yourself?” Albert asked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine.”  Arthur reached over to the bottle of pills on the coffee table.  His magic pills from Francis Sinclair. If he ever saw the man again, he’d thank him.  Somehow, he feared that wouldn’t be the case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once he finished his coffee and swallowed a pill, he left for his room to get ready for the day.  He was supposed to be meeting up with Mary in the afternoon. She would possibly bring Jamie with her, who he was excited to see.  He remembered the kid fondly. The kid had potential and a soft side, unlike the kid’s father. Arthur hoped Mr. Gillis was rotting away somewhere in a ditch, but he wouldn’t say that to Mary anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left a little after lunch time and slowly made his way down the apartment stairs and to the street.  He still felt hesitation walking through a crowd, like he didn’t belong, like he was an impostor. There wasn’t a gun at his hip and barely anyone spared a glance with his clean, crisp clothing.  He wasn’t in a city to rob the bank, for once. It felt wrong, but… comforting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would take months for him to feel relaxed.  He would continue to do his best to keep living, even if it was in a bustling city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Along the way he stopped outside a simple general store, crammed between a hotel and a saloon.  The paint was chipping and in much need of repair. Regarding the odd location of the store, Arthur could easily see it being a front for anything illegal.  In the past, he would have checked it out, maybe even robbed the place. He was ready to pass it by when a book in the window display caught his eye. It was leather, free of any lettering.  Arthur found himself headed in the store and grabbing the heavy book off the display.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he was flipping through the blank pages, the clerk made his way over. “Just received a fine shipment of those,” the clerk said, his voice thick, ready to release a sales pitch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take it,” Arthur said, not needing to be convinced.  He dug out a few coins from his pocket and handed them to the man.  “I’ll be needin’ some pencils, too, if you have some to spare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a fresh supply of pencils and a fancy fountain pen, Arthur made his way down the streets, feeling a bit more like himself. He had a journal again, a way to confide in his thoughts and sort himself out.  There was a bit of time to spare, so he stopped at a nearby cafe, ordered a coffee and a sweet pastry, and set himself down at the table with the intent of starting his journal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time was lost to him as delved deep into his writing, recounting the last couple of weeks and drawing sketches to accompany the words.  It wasn’t until a waitress picked up his empty plate and cup that he broke out of his reverie. “What time is it?” he asked her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Around three o’clock, sir?” the waitress responded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He was supposed to meet Mary thirty minutes ago.  He snapped the journal shut, put it in his satchel, and was jogging down the streets, ignoring the ache that quickly developed in his side.  Mary was only a few streets away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tall teenager bumped into his left shoulder and he looked back, knowing that familiar move.  Sure enough, a short blond kid on his right was making off with his journal and the small wad of cash Albert had loaned him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Arthur cursed.  The teenager had vanished, and the short kid had blended into the crowd.  Arthur was after him, rushing between people and jumping over obstacles of fences and random boxes.  He was getting sudden deju vu of the time he had chased the kids in St. Denis; he had managed to get his items back then.  Now, with his body lacking strength and his legs already wobbly, he wasn’t too sure he would succeed this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It still felt good to push himself.  A few weeks ago, he hadn’t even been able to walk long distances.  This was proof his body was repairing itself. He just wished his brand new journal and money hadn’t been stolen in the process.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid dived down a tiny alleyway. The instant Arthur was around the corner, he skidded to a stop.  The street was empty, only covered in a stench of waste and newspapers. He took a moment to take a few deep breaths, hearing laughter and the piano from the nearby saloon.  There weren't many places the kid could have gone except there. The alleyway ended in a dead end, with the only door into the back of the saloon.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur went through the back door, trying to take deep breaths to calm his beating heart.  A wave of booze and unwashed skin filled his nostrils. This wasn’t a proper establishment for a kid.  The kid either had a connection here, or had cut through to the front. He walked through the hallway and nodded his head to the ladies smoking a cigarette.  They eyed him up and down in disgust and turned away. He wasn’t surprised at that. He wasn’t much to look at nowadays.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where was that damn kid?  Arthur looked over the saloon, which was crowded and full of drunkards already.  He nearly jumped when a man smashed a glass over the counter, and pulled the kid up from the ground.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span> The kid was in trouble, probably thought he could grab a pocket along the way out.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Arthur could think, he moved forward and was pushing the man away.  “It ain’t fair to fight a kid, mister,” he said in a smooth voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man was clearly wasted.  He stumbled backwards at the lightest touch from Arthur.  Should have been an easy steal, though the kid might have just been unlucky.  The man looked like he was about to respond, his mouth slacking, when his eyes rolled up and he fell backwards on the card table behind him, the weak wood crunching and breaking under his weight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here we go,” Arthur muttered under his breath.  The drunk man’s friends hopped in, throwing fists at the card players who were clearly upset at their gaming and drinks getting interrupted.  Arthur leaned backwards, not wanting to take a fist to the face that day. He ducked a loose fist and made his way towards the door, having noticed the kid had escaped in all the chaos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me go!” he heard the kid shout from outside the saloon doors.  A well dressed, dark haired man held the kid by the nape of his shirt, and held on tight.  Beneath the shaggy blond hair was raging brown eyes and a scowling face. The kid wasn’t even ten.  He was trying to push the man’s arm away in desperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This here yours?” Arthur asked the man, meaning the kid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This boy?  Heavens, no. Go on, Louis,” the man sighed and pushed the kid away.  “Stop getting into trouble.” With a huff, the kid took off and was lost in a crowd of people.  The man leaned down and picked up Arthur’s wad of money which had been dropped in the process. “This yours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur accepted it from him and counted the bills.  It was all there. He frowned. “Sure. Thank you, mister…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Timothy Bauer.  Please to make your acquaintance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Atticus Adler,” Arthur said.  He shook the man’s hand briefly.  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Bauer, but you don’t look…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I belong in the saloon?  No, I suppose not.” Timothy looked around, biting his lip.  He was around Arthur’s age, clearly dignified and made of money, with his trimmed mustache, city clothes, and top hat.  “I was supposed to meet my contact here. I’m a newspaper reporter, Mr. Adler. I don’t suppose this journal is yours as well?”  He pulled out a journal from an inside pocket.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you!  That little thief nabbed it from me.” Arthur took the journal and flipped through the pages.  Nothing had been torn out or ruined, which gave him a little bit of relief.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Timothy motioned with his head.  “Walk with me, if you don’t mind.  What brings you to New York City? I can tell you’re not from around here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He and Albert had discussed this, had planned ahead.  It was best to keep it as simple as possible. “Visitin’ my old friend, Albert Mason.  Lookin’ for another line of work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You draw those pictures in your journal?” Timothy glanced down at the journal in Arthur’s hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I did.”  Arthur didn’t like it when people read his journal, though this man only would have had enough time to glance through the pages.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well.  If you’re looking for side work, and you draw just as well as you do, my newspaper is hiring.  I work for the Empire Gazette, just a bit away from here.” Timothy stopped in his tracks and flicked out a business card and handed it to him.  “Drop by when you have a chance, Mr. Adler, and bring some more of your work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have much with me, but… I can figure it out.  Thank you, Mr. Bauer.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Timothy tipped his hat to him.  “My pleasure. It was lovely running into you, Mr. Adler.  Take care, now.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Arthur, a bit taken aback of the sudden job offer, pocketed the business card and looked around to get his bearings.  Somehow, in the midst of all the confusion, he had ended up on the street he needed to be on. The streets were busy with chatter and people going about their business as usual.  The restaurant he had planned to meet Mary at was just a few blocks down. He had to be nearly an hour late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ar-Atticus!” he heard Mary call.  Jamie sat at her side, grinning widely.  He didn’t seem to mind Arthur was late. “Oh, you’re okay.  I was so worried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got distracted,” Arthur said sheepishly. Mary was dressed in a dark brown skirt with a white shirt, her jacket draped over the back of her chair.  She had a look of relief on her face. He patted Jamie on the shoulder as he sat down at the table. Jamie was looking more like a young adult every time Arthur saw him.  He had even grown a little stubble on his face, which was more defined. “Good to see you, Jamie Gillis. And I’m sorry, Mary. But I ran into this business fellow right now, offered a possible job.  For the Empire Gazette?” He handed her the card, which she took lightly with interest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie’s eyes lit up.  “My whole class is talking about that newspaper!  Full of radical ideas, political things - you’d eat it right up, Arthur.  In fact, I’ll go grab one right now.” Jamie shot up from the table and was out of the restaurant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A waiter set down a cup of coffee in front of Arthur, then left him and Mary alone.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you’d been-” Mary began.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, and I’m sorry.  Time… got away from me. Bought a new journal.” Arthur chose to leave out the part about the whole kid stealing from him.  He wouldn’t hear the end of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary smiled.  “You always did like your journal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” Arthur cleared his throat and grabbed a spoon to stir his coffee with.  “How’s it been going for you, Mary, now that you’re back here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh… it’s different.  Daddy has ceased spending our belongings for now.  He’s getting better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur snorted into his coffee.  That was a load of shit, but he didn’t say it out loud.  He’d have to watch his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He thinks you’re dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’d turn me in,” Arthur pondered.  “Or is that what you’re thinking?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe.  But you won’t have to worry about him.”  She looked to the front of the restaurant, where Jamie was walking back inside.  “In fact, Jamie has a proposition for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jamie sat down at the table and set the newspaper down in front of Arthur.  “That I do. You see, A-Atticus, you know when you asked me all those months ago about what I like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.  Apples.” Arthur leaned back in his chair, slightly amused.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” Jamie said, lifting his eyebrows as he explained. “I’m attending college, right?  I’ll finish it this time. Learning agriculture and the like. There are plenty of orchard farms out in the country here.  Another year, and I’ll be done with school. There’s an orchard I have my eye on that I hear is going up for sale. Considering dear old daddy doesn’t spend my inheritance-” he eyed Mary skeptically, “-I can buy the farm when it goes for sale next year.  I’d like you to help run things with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Arthur was stunned.  “You- I don’t know much about runnin’ farms, Jamie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe, but you’re a hard worker, and I’ve always liked you.  You were there for Mary, you saved my life, and so we’re gonna be here for you now.  The first few years might be a little rough, but I am confident in this. Also, have you tried cider?  There’s endless possibilities with apples!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur laughed at his enthusiasm.  It seemed too good to be true. Earn a living wage, not having to rob and steal to put dinner on the table and money in his pocket?  He should jump at the chance, but the thought of his gang… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have one request, before I say yes,” Arthur said.  He leaned his elbows on the table. “I need to know if my friends, Sadie, John, Abigail - I need to know they’re safe.”  He saw the protest in Mary’s eyes and held up his hand to stop her. “But I am giving it time to cool down with the Pinkertons.  Six months, maybe a year, and then I’ll head down. Remember, I have an advantage over the Pinkertons.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary took a sip of her tea, obviously crestfallen.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll come back.  I’m here for the next year.  I’ll work hard, find a job, whether it be at this newspaper,” Arthur motioned to the black and white bundle of papers, “or elsewhere.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine by me!” Jamie reached over and shook Arthur’s hand firmly.  “Pleased to have you back, Arthur. For real this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they left the restaurant, Mary’s mood had lifted.  She and Arthur hung back while Jamie navigated them through the crowds.  “We can be friends again, Arthur, can’t we?” she asked him in a quiet voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would like that very much.” Arthur said, giving her a confident, small smile.  “I ain’t gonna fall back on my gang, Mary. I appreciate everythin’ you’ve done for me.  Honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They departed ways once they reached the next intersection with a promise for dinner the next week.  He paused by a store wall to take a glance through the Empire Gazette newspaper, chuckling at the article titled </span>
  <em>
    <span>WOMEN: LET THEM VOTE.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It reminded him of Penelope Braithwaite and Beau Gray - two people he wouldn’t mind running into again, as silly as they were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The newspaper did indeed offer radical ideas, which he liked.  He saw the ad for an artist - </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Seeking artist with a crafty wit of mind and pen.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Arthur lacked the smarts, but he could draw.  He’d give it a shot. He’d return home and start drawing whatever inspired him directly from the newspaper.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt satisfying and oddly gratifying, working for something when his life wasn’t on the line.  It was the step forward he needed, one Dutch - Arthur stilled. He hadn’t tried to think of Dutch recently.  It was too painful to think of, knowing the man who had been like a father hadn’t cared for him in the end, and left him to die.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur would do this for himself.  Not for Dutch. For Sadie, John, Abigail, and the rest of the gang he considered family.  He’d continue for them.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“We’re going to run out of bounties at this rate, Mrs. Adler.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie snorted at the sheriff’s sarcastic comment as she counted the fifty dollars.  She sat on the spare chair in his office, squinting in the low light of the setting sun. Once she was satisfied the dollar amount was correct, she pocketed the money and stood up slowly, ignoring the jeers from the jailed man downstairs.  By now, the sheriff had gotten used to her coming and going. The first bounty she had caught - Roberts - had been subdued and brought back to the sheriff in less than a day. There were still plenty of bounties to go and she wasn’t ready to stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On her way out she glanced at the board and pulled down a random bounty, one of the boring, usual ones.  “This’ll do. Catch you tomorrow, sheriff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The weeks in Roseville had passed in a hazy fog.  Sadie had yet to rent a room for long term; instead, she chose to stay in hotel rooms or camp beneath the stars.  Granted it was getting colder and she would have to start thinking of something long term. Abigail still offered a place to sleep, but… Sadie couldn’t accept that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She met John for lunch once in a while.  She was happy to see him surviving, if a little restless.  She had yet to invite him out on a bounty hunt, out of respect for Abigail.  Maybe once everyone was settled down in a routine.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped at the saloon and quietly sat down at the bar.  As it was nearly evening, patrons were starting to make their way into the saloon for the night.  “I’ll have the steak, and a pint of beer, please,” she murmured to the bartender.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it, missy,” the bartender, named Howard, said.  A sweet older man with a heavy gut, which reminded her of Pearson.  He kept his saloon decently clean and kept the rambunctious patrons at bay.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie nursed her beer as she tuned out the rising chatter and piano in the background.  It wasn’t until she had sat down at the bar did she realize the ache in her legs. She had been moving non stop, it felt like; anything to put her mind elsewhere.  Abigail talked of dreams of the future, yet whenever Sadie tried to imagine it, she came up blank. There was nothing to look forward to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tall fellow took the seat next to her and waved the bartender over.  “I’ll take what she’s having, mister.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A talker.  Sadie didn’t really like those. She stared into her beer, not wanting to acknowledge the stranger.  When her food arrived, she quickly cut the steak and potatoes, a bit anxious to get upstairs where she had rented a room.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She heard the man shift in his seat.  “I hear you’re quick with a gun, Mrs. Adler.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie flicked the man a look.  Early thirties with dark hair and a trimmed beard, dressed in a dark expensive suit free of grime and wear.  He wasn’t from around the area. He also wasn’t flirting, no - it was apparent on his face he was about to ask a request.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s askin’?” Sadie stated and took a bite of her food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edward Maas, ma’am.  I own the sawmill in town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Interesting.  Sadie didn’t say anything and waited for him to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabbed the pint of beer the bartender handed him and took a small drink.  “I pay well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you implyin’?” Sadie snapped at him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need a gun for hire.  Please, meet me at my office tomorrow.  I’ll feel more comfortable discussing it there.”  He slid his business card over and finished off his beer in a few swift gulps.  “See you tomorrow, Mrs. Adler.” He straightened his jacket and took his leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie watched him go, feeling strange about the whole thing.  Either what the man wanted was illegal, or he simply felt uncomfortable talking in a public saloon.  It was worth a chance to stop by. Judging from the price of his clothing, the man would probably pay well, and she wouldn’t mind that.  She quickly finished her dinner and went to retire for the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next day she was knocking on his office door, located in the large building of the sawmill.  The work in the sawmill looked like it was grueling work, with the men cutting and transporting logs.  It was done with large machinery, but still required strict attention. She would hate getting into a gun fight here.  Too many sharp objects lying around. One misstep… she shivered. It would not be pleasant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come in,” she heard Edward call out.  She opened the door and nodded to him. He sat at his desk with papers strewn about haphazardly.  It looked like he hadn’t slept all night. “Ah! Mrs. Adler. Please, sit.” He motioned to a wooden chair across from his desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the job, first?” She asked him, crossing her arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Simple.  Escort my payroll drivers.  I own several sawmills, and recently, we’ve been hit by a local gang.  I don’t know what they’re calling themselves. They’ve been stealing the payrolls, Mrs. Adler.  The sheriff has nothing but good things to say about you, and I’d like to hire you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie crossed the few steps forward and sat down.  “I’m listening, Mr. Maas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Edward pulled open a drawer in his desk and grabbed an envelope.  “Payroll arrives monthly. The bank is north of here. As I said, I have several sawmills, so you’d be traveling everywhere.  St. Denis, Blackwater, here, several towns up the east coast, and eventually New York, but that won’t be for another year or so until I get my factory started.  I’ll pay for your room and board as you go, as well.” He pushed the envelope across the desk. “And consider this a thank you gift.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyebrow lifted, she slowly grabbed the envelope and peeked at the contents.  Fifty dollars. “They must’ve been hittin’ you pretty hard to ask for a woman’s help, hmm?” Sadie said and put the money in her pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“True, it’s not often I see a woman gunsmith, but if the sheriff trusts your skills, so do I.  I’ll go with you for the first trip, as I have business down there. It’s to Blackwater. Have you been before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once or twice.”  Sadie narrowed her eyes.  She’d gone with Jake before, a happier lifetime ago.  Blackwater wouldn’t be the same. “When do we leave, Mr. Maas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, call me Edward.  And tomorrow morning, six o’clock.  It’ll take us a few days to get there.”  He stood up and reached a hand out to her.  “Thank you, Mrs. Adler.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook it firmly and let go.  “Call me Sadie. It’s my pleasure.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>They were on the road exactly at six o’clock.  Rain sputtered in bursts, threatening to downpour.  Sadie wore a dark leather jacket to fight against the cold weather.  There were three other men escorting the wagon - two in front, and she and another guarding the back.  All older men, employed by Edward for several years. That said something about Edward - he hired the right men, men who could actually fire a gun and handle themselves in a battle.  They weren’t like O’Driscoll grunts, who were dumb as bricks and only deadly in numbers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward sat on the wagon, which was heavily armored with reinforced metal and locked securely.  Hard to break into, but Sadie had seen Arthur do it several times. Thinking of him ached. She still missed him so much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur’s choice had been either dynamite or his lockbreaker.  He said dynamite was too loud, but it was the more exciting choice.  Unfortunately, Sadie was on the other side this time round. She’d have to do anything to protect the wagon - dynamite would not be a good sign.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d made sure to say goodbye to Abigail and John, promising to return in a few weeks.  They were safe for now, as long as John kept his head cool. Which Sadie was only half confident about, but nevertheless, she had done her best for them.  Nobody knew where the Wanted John Marston was, or even had a hint about it. Soon, he’d be forgotten - but only if he kept playing his part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first night they camped, Sadie and Edward took watch the first night.  She’d been silent most of the trip, listening to the men talk. They all seemed like friends, had families and a life back home.  This was a usual trip, but from the sound of it, they had lost a friend not only a week ago because of the recent gang activity.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the moon was high in the sky, Sadie was cleaning her gun, sitting on an old stump when Edward stopped by.  “They like you,” he said cheerfully. “I know these men might seem like old grumps, but they’re truly good men. They’ve been working for me for several years now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about the man that died a few weeks ago?” Sadie asked.  “They mentioned him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Sam.  He was a good man. Had a big family to provide for, too.  I’ve seen to it that the family is properly paid, since he died in my employment.”  Edward lit a cigarette and offered Sadie one, which she accepted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie took a deep breath with the cigarette and let out a large puff of smoke.  She hadn’t let herself smoke for a while now. Once Arthur had trouble breathing, he had quit smoking, and she had stopped as well.  She and Arthur had been attached at the hip, traveling together for hunting or scouting. She’d seen him at his healthiest and at his worst.  Her time with the van der Linde’s was a memory she’d vow to never forget. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... about yourself?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Sadie said, shaking her head. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me about yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There ain’t much to tell.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Considering, a pretty woman such as yourself would be stuck at home with a baby or two-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie leveled a glare at him.  “Don’t continue on, Mr. Maas. I ain’t a pretty little housewife.  I was a wife once, maybe, but I had done just as much work as my husband.  And I don’t wish to talk about that no more.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Edward held up a hand.  “My apologies. That came out wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go walk the perimeter,” Sadie mumbled and stood up, her gun finished and cleaned.  She held it close as she darted away. She hated it when men asked about her past. She just wanted them to let her be.  She didn’t owe anyone an explanation, and wasn’t ready to bare all to a complete stranger. Arthur had been the one to get her to open up, and she had trusted him completely.  There wouldn’t be anyone who she could do that with anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An hour passed of her walking slowly around the wagon.  They had navigated slightly off the main path for a spot to camp.  There were plenty of trees for cover, which meant the wagon would be easy to defend.  Edward had stated the gang members were growing bolder, so Sadie kept her wits about her, listening and watching for any movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On one of her rounds about the wagon, she noticed a wet footprint reflecting moonlight in the mud near a nearby stream. It hadn’t been there before, that’s for sure.  It was headed around the edge of camp. She crept slowly, trailing the direction of the footprint, and sure enough, she saw a man peeking around a tree, completely unaware of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walked to him quietly and pushed the rifle to the back of the man’s neck.  He jumped at the cold metal against his neck. “Drop your weapon,” she said firmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ain’t doing anything wrong!” the man shrieked loudly.  Loud enough the gang members would be alerted he’d been caught.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bullet whizzed past Sadie’s head and she darted for cover, adrenaline rushing.  She heard shouts from Edward and his men as they woke from the gunshots and grabbed their weapons.  Sadie was two steps ahead of them. The man who had shrieked had drawn a weapon and was looking wildly around; he caught sight of Sadie and lifted his gun to shoot.  She didn’t give him a chance. She shot him in the upper torso and then aimed in the batch of trees from where she had seen flashes from the gunfire. A burly head peeked out; she pulled her trigger and the man was dead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward ran to a nearby tree, his rifle drawn as well. “I see you’ve found our friends,” he huffed, his eyes wild with a mix of fear and awe.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s at least five more,” she estimated, having seen a few from their hiding spots.  “They ain’t gonna last long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She darted up to a closer tree and downed a man in the process.  The rush of the fight, the pull of her trigger, the drop of sweat pouring down her head was all too familiar.  There wasn’t an explanation for it. With each death, she felt like she was flying, getting rid of the evil that killed good men like Jake and Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the last man fell, she was out of breath, her hands shaking. She knelt to the ground to collect her thoughts. It’d been a few weeks since she’d been in a firefight such as this.  The thrill of it had given her what she needed. An answer to what she should do, how to continue on with her life. There would always be bad men worth killing, worth arresting. She’d stop them as best she could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These are them all right, boss,” one of Edward’s hired guns said.  Sadie thought his name was Pat, if she remembered correctly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But this isn’t all of them,” Edward said, letting out a long sigh.  “This whole gang is getting out of hand.” He looked at Sadie, a tired look on his face.  “We’re really glad you’re here, Sadie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie gave a firm nod.  “My pleasure.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward and the men made their way back to the wagon, Edward giving out orders.  “We’ll head out now, boys, and stop at the nearby sheriff to let them know what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie followed them slowly, lost in her thoughts.  She’d found a new crew. They were no van der Linde’s, but… she could tell they were good men who trusted and cared for each other.  Men who deserved to live their lives so they could return to their families.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would make this work.  She had to.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Sadie</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie sat in her hotel room, brushing her hair and admiring the golden length in the mirror.  She had been on the road for months now and hadn’t given her hair a second thought. She mostly kept it tied in a braid as she traveled, and now that it was brushed out, she left it down.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She and the other men were given the day off as they waited for the payroll wagon to be ready.  She was excited, too, because she hadn’t been in St. Denis in awhile, and needed to buy some quality, fresh supplies of clothing and items for traveling.  She’d bathed for the first time in weeks and purchased a small vial of perfume. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt good to pamper herself.  She hadn’t taken the time lately, and Edward was treating them all to a special dinner that night.  Since she didn’t plan to get into any fights that night, either, she eventually relented into wearing a skirt.  Pants were so much easier to walk around in, and she would be happy to change back into them once she was back on the road again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward was waiting for her when she walked down the hotel stairs.  He beamed up at her, having cleaned up himself. He’d shaved the beard he had grown and had his hair trimmed.  “You look lovely, Sadie,” he said, holding his arm out to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she replied and took his arm.  “Where are we dining tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This french restaurant near the train station.  The men are already there. Be prepared for some teasing, it’s not often we get to see you dressed up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie smirked.  “Same for yourself.  If I get to see Pat dressed like a stuffed lobster, tonight would have been worth it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turned out Pat had dressed like a stuffed lobster, dressed in a black outfit too big for him.  His red tie matched his face, as he was already enamored with several drinks of beer. “Sadie!” he drawled, waving the two of them over when they entered the restaurant.  “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> a woman underneath that scowling face!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reached the table and sat down.  “Now that that has been established, let’s get you some water, buddy,” she said.  She was used to Pat’s harmless jokes by now; he meant nothing of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two other men - Kevin and Ian - had started drinking as well.  As a group, they had done well the past few months. A payroll hadn’t been stolen ever since Sadie started, and nobody had been hurt.  The gang attacks had died down and everything had gone on peacefully.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite this, Sadie was itching for a fight.  She hadn’t had one in weeks, and felt herself growing anxious.  These were good people, and they needed the extra hand. But she couldn’t figure out why she was anxious, and she was getting irritated.  She wasn’t ready to move on, yet she feared in a few months that might be the case. Back to bounty hunting, maybe. She didn’t know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she wouldn’t think of that at dinner.  She joined in on the drinking and conversed with the men.  Pat happily told stories of his family, Kevin of his drinking days, and Ian of this woman he had met in Rhodes.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until the end of dinner and Sadie was walking to the hotel with Edward, a bit lightheaded, that he asked her a question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How come you don’t tell us anything about yourself?” he asked her in a quiet tone, completely serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped in her tracks and contemplated his words.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve known you for months, and I barely know a thing about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t need to know anythin’ about me.”  She walked away from him, not quite knowing where she was going.  All she knew is that she needed to get to the room and fall asleep.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sadie!” Edward rushed forward and grabbed her by the hand, pleading in his voice.  “Please. I want to get to know you. You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out. But I don’t know you at all.”  He brought up her hand and kissed her knuckles lightly. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A younger, naive Sadie would have been flustered.  Jake had been a smooth talker like Edward, and had swooned Sadie right off her feet ever since they were young.  This… Sadie was just tired. She wasn’t ready to open up to him. “I can’t,” Sadie whispered. “Please, Edward. I just can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could see the frustration in his eyes.  “Of course,” he relented. “Let me escort you to the hotel, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let herself be led away.  She glanced towards the train station and stilled, thinking she saw a familiar form.  The strong shoulders looked familiar, as well as the sandy blond hair - but no. It couldn’t be Arthur.  The form boarded the train and left her sight.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once she was back to her hotel room, she collapsed on the bed, determined to steel her heart even more tomorrow.  She couldn’t be distracted from the likes of Edward. She couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least... not yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Springtime was upon them.  The few trees on the streets had blossomed, their pink and white petals blanketing the streets.  Children laughed and played outside again, enjoying their first full day of the warm sunlight. The atmosphere over the whole city seemed more chipper, as if the gloominess of winter had finally lifted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur sat at the breakfast table, buttering a piece of toast as Albert walked through the front door.  “I did it!” Albert cheered excitedly. “I’ll be having my photography displayed in an art gallery.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, good for you!” Arthur exclaimed.  He scarfed down the piece of toast and stood up, the chair squeaking behind him.  He was running late; he had spent his morning finishing the last of the drawings for the newspaper.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just imagine!” Albert walked over to the table and snagged a piece of toast off of Arthur’s plate.  “Opening day will be this Friday. You’re the first one invited, by the way. Bring an escort. I’ll be in the gallery getting it all ready in the meantime.  Where are you off to today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The newspaper, for starters.  Then I’ll be at the stables for the rest of the day.  And I ain’t gonna bring an escort, Albert. Though... ” Arthur shrugged on his jacket in thought.  “You could ask Mary to come along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Albert waved his hand.  “I’ll send her an invitation.  I don’t need an escort, I’m running the event.  It’s you who needs to get out more, Arthur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, I get out plenty.  Every time I go to work. See you tonight.”  Arthur grabbed his jacket and left the apartment in a hurry, his portfolio in hand.  It had been months of living in the city, making a decent wage off of his art for the Empire Gazette, as well as working in the nearby stables.  It was simple grunt work, but the physical movement had helped him regain his strength over a period of time.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His time at the newspaper had given him a chance to improve his drawing skills drastically.  Drawing had always come naturally to him and was one of his favorite pastimes, but the newspaper has taught him to think more critically.  Many of his art was inspired by the articles, which were usually satire or abstract and political in some way. He’d learned to draw caricatures and created comics - the ideas weren’t usually his, but he was happy to draw them.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d gained respect at the newspaper.  The building for the <em>Empire Gazette</em> was merely a simple room with a few desks where people worked.  The other room was for their rotary press, where they printed and assembled all the newspapers. Arthur had learned the ins and outs of newspaper printing, which he had never once imagined himself doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were times when he was unsettled back at the apartment.  He missed camping among the empty, wild fields of endless hills, the stars blanketing the night sky for miles.  He missed the sound of crickets, coyotes, the wind brushing through the trees.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was none of that here in the city.  He’d dream of returning home, riding his horse as fast as he can, the wild, open land calling his name.  Then he’d wake up to the chatter of the city and wind up homesick.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spring had finally come, promising a bright and sunny summer.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was near time Arthur returned to Sadie.  He’d find her. He didn’t know if she’d like to return to him, but he sorely missed her.  He’d find John, Abigail, say hello to little Jack. After Albert’s party, he’d tell them he was leaving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time flew by as he worked at the newspaper, drawing a simple landscape scene for one of the articles.  He was invited out for drinks by Timothy Bauer and the rest of the journalists, but he refused. He hadn’t gone out to drink with anyone recently.  He wasn’t ready to make friends with anyone. It was difficult for him to explain. Even Albert was getting tired of dragging him out, and Mary and Jamie had gotten busy with their lives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped by the stables after work, worked a few more hours, and went home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Friday evening when he entered the art gallery to Albert’s event, dressed in a black suit with a blue tie. Albert’s photographs were framed and hung up proudly around the gallery.  A large table was set up with appetizers of sweets and desserts, and a bartender stood nearby with a casket of beer and a bottle of wine.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Albert was fretting over a crooked photograph.  He was dressed in a long tail coat with black trousers, complete with a blue tie.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, let me handle it,” Arthur said, walking over to him.  He simply adjusted it until Albert approved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Albert laughed.  He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his forehead.  “I invited Mary and her brother, you know. As well as one of your office friends, Bethany.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nearly scowled at him.  “You know-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Now grab yourself a drink.  I need to greet my guests.” Albert scuttled off to a group who just entered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bethany.  A woman who’s been giving Arthur the puppy dog eyes ever since he walked into the newspaper building.  It reminded him of Mary-Beth in many ways, who had been the same way when she first joined the gang. Arthur had mentioned Bethany only once to Albert, and suddenly, Albert was convinced they were destined together.  It was his attempt at getting Arthur to move on, which he wasn’t ready for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The small art gallery quickly became crowded.  Arthur grabbed a beer and walked around, admiring the many images Albert had photographed.  Some were of the time when he and Albert had first met. There were the images of the wolves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t that fascinating?” a small, quiet voice said beside him.  He nearly jumped.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Bethany,”  he said coolly. He hated himself for acting distant.  She was a pretty woman, with brown curls and a soft face, with wide, green eyes.  She had put on some makeup with red lipstick and some blush, which only enhanced her already pretty features. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled at him.  She was dressed in a pretty pastel yellow blouse, tucked into a light blue dress.  “We’ll be publishing some of Mr. Mason’s photographs in the next week to help advertise his gallery.  You can tell he really loves his work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He does,” Arthur agreed.  “I helped him capture this photo, you know.  The wolves nearly got him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes widened.  “How scary!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was.” He left out the part of killing the wolves - had to be done, to save his life and Albert’s.  He recalled getting a lovely pelt out of it, too. He took another swig of his beer and caught sight of Albert talking to Mary - she was blushing as she talked to him, laughing at some comment he made.  He knew that gaze of hers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It all clicked together.  Albert had been mentioning how he had been meeting Mary for breakfast the past few weeks.  Arthur simply thought they had been friends - but clearly, it had been turning into something more.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t they sweet,” Bethany said.  “Mary invited me for tea the other day and couldn’t stop talking about him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur didn’t know how he could have been so blind about them, but he had been so cooped up in the apartment and not venturing anywhere to realize.  “I’m happy for them,” Arthur mumbled into his drink. He wasn’t angry, merely taken aback. He hadn’t seen that coming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were moving on.  Arthur hadn’t talked much to Mary about her financial troubles, but he knew she was struggling.  Her father had spent much of their wealth in his gambling and not much was left to her name. Jamie had managed to keep his inheritance and was able to keep his sister financially stable, but just barely.  Not two weeks ago she had received news her father had left for New Austin, and Mary hadn’t inquired further. Her father had abandoned them once more, and she was done with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Albert was a fortunate fellow, with wealthy but pompous parents.  There was a time they had stopped by the apartment, once, when Arthur had been dressed in his long johns, pants, and had a wild beard to boot.  He had opened the door and Albert’s mother had nearly screamed, under the impression Arthur was some homeless man who had broken in. Albert had rushed to save the day, explaining who Arthur was - much to the parent’s disdain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur hadn’t been close to his own father, and even though the relationship between Albert and his parents were rocky, Arthur found himself jealous.  It was a life Arthur never had, and was never meant to have. Albert never had to survive on his own, barely getting by with limited food and money. He had support, but his reality of surviving the wilderness was terrible.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was why Arthur admired Albert.  He was always trying something new to get unique photographs, even if it meant risking his life.  Albert knew how to treat people with respect, and was wise beyond his years.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now he had moved on with Mary, leaving Arthur behind.  It was time Arthur left New York, and returned to his friends - if he could find them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your latest comic was brilliant,” Bethany chipped in after a long period of silence.  “We all thought so. Mr. Bauer only has great things to say about your work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. I appreciate the chance Mr. Bauer has given me.  Excuse me, Bethany, I need to talk to Mary.” He bowed his head and made way for the other woman, nearly grimacing at the disappointed look on Bethany’s face.  He’d only disappoint her further. It wasn’t worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Albert grinned at Arthur’s approach, cheeks red from the wine.  “How is it going with Bethany, my good friend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not as well as she’d like.  So. You two,” he started, pointing his finger at the two of them.  He didn’t know how to say it. “... are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary flushed red, clearly embarrassed.  “We’re courting, Atticus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you don’t mind,” Albert cut in, “but it’s just, happened, you know-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mind at all,” Arthur drawled.  “I’m pleased for you both. I am. It just…” he let out a sigh.  “It made me realize somethin’. I need to go back, Mary. I’m well again, healthy.  I have money.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary looked to the floor.  “I knew it couldn’t last,” she murmured.  “You’ll always be an outlaw at heart.” She stormed away to the sitting room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Albert looked disappointed, his eyebrows furrowed.  “You’ve a good life here, Arthur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’ll be back if I can’t find my friends.  I wanna help Jamie succeed with his farm. I have goals, I just, I’m restless, Albert.  I’ll be leavin’ in the mornin’. Now… please, go comfort Mary. I’ll write you two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He and Albert shook hands.  “Be smart about this, Arthur,” Albert said quietly.  “Keep us updated.” With that, he followed Mary out, and Arthur left the gallery, his heart set.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>It was a bright and sunny spring day when he arrived in Annesburg.  He had rented a horse from the nearby stables, a dark black and white horse named Marble. Arthur had grown in his beard, styled in Verdi style, and kept his short hair slicked back with pomade.  He was dressed in dark jeans and a crisp grey shirt, a green striped vest and a pinstripe jacket, and chose to wear a cravat around his neck. His paragon hat was one of his favorites, still a few months new. It was a completely different look from how the old Arthur Morgan used to dress: dirty jeans which hadn’t been washed for a few weeks, old, worn out shirt with a hole here or there, wrinkly, leather boots which had been his favorite.  An outlaw who survived merely on his guns and his gang.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The new Arthur Morgan would attempt to be a normal civilian, merely traveling on the road.  He had brought his sketchbook and his journal, which he wrote in every night. As he was traveling in possibly dangerous areas, he also purchased a rifle and a pistol to be on the safe side.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would first start at Beaver Hollow.  The thought of returning nearly made him sick, as that had been the place where everything had gone wrong.  It also turned out to be overrun with the Murfree gang again, so Arthur couldn’t get close without murdering a lot of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Any sign of Sadie and the others were clearly gone, so he continued on.  Weeks passed as he stopped in Rhodes, the memory of losing Sean fresh on his mind.  He stopped by Valentine, the memory of getting into a drunk bar fight with Lenny, getting arrested while black out drunk.  He traveled around Lemoyne, keeping an ear out for anything unusual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were no letters for a Tacitus Kilgore, no posters of the van der Linde gang.  Even the Pinkertons had seemed to move on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked the streets of St. Denis, seeing the places where he had fled the law, the hanging grounds where Colm O’Driscoll had drawn his last breath, the bar he had shared a few drinks with Sadie and John.   Even though he was surrounded by people, it felt like he was walking the place alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave the horse to the St. Denis stable.  There was nothing left for him there. It was time to move on back to New York, simple as that.  There could have been anywhere Sadie and the others had gone, and Arthur simply didn’t have the money to chase after them anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trains sounded as he bought his ticket to return home, and he waited on a bench for his train, feeling defeated.  Night had fallen and it was past dinner time; he’d have to sleep on the train. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down to the dusty road, and his heart did a near flip.  A tall, dark haired man escorting a beautiful woman. She was a little bit shorter than the man, dressed in a fancy gown, with bright blond hair that was exactly like Sadie’s.  They were laughing, and she smiled at the stranger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stood up in an instant and was about to yell her name, except he watched the man rush and grab Sadie’s hand.  The man kissed it, infatuation clearly on his face. Stars danced in Arthur’s vision as he realized the worst possibility.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie had moved on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the midst of all of this his train was ready to depart.  He handed the ticket to the coachman and turned back to look at Sadie, now leaving arm in arm with the man.  Arthur turned away and found his seat on the train, in a daze he couldn’t fathom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All these past months he had imagined how he would find Sadie.  And now… he jerked in his chair. He should at least tell her he was alive.  She wouldn’t know. But the train was already moving and headed out of the city.  Arthur sunk lower in his chair, feeling lost and absolutely disgusted with himself.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> One Year Later </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sadie </em>
</p>
<p>Sadie knocked quietly on the door of John and Abigail’s house, the sun beating harshly down on her neck.  Goats bleated nearby and the sounds of the nearby sawmill echoed in the distance. Sadie had left her jacket on Freckle’s saddle and had her sleeves rolled up in an attempt to cool down from the heat.  The early morning heat was already bringing sweat to her brow and she wiped it away with her sleeve. She’d been riding all morning, with not a lick of clouds in the sky to provide shade.  </p>
<p>The door was pulled open with a gusto and Abigail laughed pleasantly.  “You’re finally back!” she said, grabbing Sadie in a tight hug.</p>
<p>Sadie hugged her back and broke away, trying to hide her smile.  “I am, but only for a little while. Just checkin’ up on you guys.” </p>
<p>“Please, come in.  It ain’t much cooler in here, but at least it’s cover from the sun.”  Abigail led her inside to the small living room and kitchen. Sadie remembered it from last time, when it was run down and full of old furniture.  The furniture was still there, except Abigail had clearly put love and attention into making the room seem homey, with knitted blankets, pillows, and a fresh pot of flowers on the table.</p>
<p>“Jack is at school.  You gotta tell me what you been up to, Sadie. It’s been ages.”</p>
<p>“Well…” Sadie set down her rifle against the doorway and sat down on a rickety couch.  She wiped at a dirty splotch on her pants absentmindedly. Abigail poured two cups of tea and set them down on the coffee table in front of her, then sat next to her, the couch squealing under the weight.  “You know I been bounty huntin’. That’s basically been it. I been all over. Had a few close calls, but, I managed.”</p>
<p>Abigail took a tiny sip of tea and frowned at it.  “Arthur would’ve loved runnin’ around with you. I been missin’ him, lately.”</p>
<p>“I always miss him,” Sadie stated quietly, staring into her tea.  She didn’t want to say more.</p>
<p>“So tell me: what really brings you back here?  I hear Mr. Maas is in town,” Abigail said, a suspicious glint in her eye.  </p>
<p>“He offered me another job.”  </p>
<p>“Only a job?”</p>
<p>Sadie scoffed at her.  “I ain’t interested in him, Abigail. I told you.  Remember what happened a year ago? I high tailed it once we got back to Roseville.”</p>
<p>“Broke his heart in the process, too.”</p>
<p>“I doubt it.  A man that rich has to have options.  Anyways… I’m to escort him to New York, you see.  They’ve opened a factory there. Once payroll is situated with the bank up there, I’ll be on my way.”</p>
<p>Abigail set her lips to a thin line.  “Back to bounty hunting?”</p>
<p>“Probably.”</p>
<p>It was clear Abigail was disappointed from the look on her face.  “Shall we go to town? I’ve the afternoon off and I promised Jack to buy him a candy for doin’ so well in class.”  </p>
<p>Despite the afternoon heat, they made their way into the town of Roseville with the plan to meet Jack at a cafe.  John still worked long shifts at the sawmill and would only be able to see Sadie around dinner, and then early the next morning Sadie would depart with Mr. Maas.</p>
<p>Sadie had left his employment on friendly terms, though she knew she had crushed his heart.  There wasn’t any room for love in her heart right now, and wouldn’t be for a long time. This time around, the pay he had offered her was more than sufficient, and plus, she’d get to travel to New York of all places.  She wouldn’t mind traveling with him once more, and hoped he had moved on. </p>
<p>
  <em> Arthur </em>
</p>
<p>As the hint of sun crested the mountains and the ever proud rooster cried his waking call, Arthur was rolling out of his bed and pulling on his clothing, blinking sleepiness away.  A yawn crept up on him and he paused to stretch, his back popping as he leaned back. He could smell the coffee brewing in the other room and he hurried dressing. The sun would be scorching today, so he didn’t bother pulling on an extra layer of clothing.  The morning chill would be gone within the hour and he didn’t mind the cold biting at his skin. It helped wake him up.</p>
<p>“Mornin’,” he said as he entered the living room, Jamie already pouring a cup of coffee at the breakfast table.  Jamie, now proud owner of Gillis Orchards, located in the beautiful countryside of New York, with plenty of room to grow.  He was dressed in dark overalls and had developed a deep tan over his skin from working days in the fields.  </p>
<p>Jamie pushed over the cup of coffee and poured another one.  </p>
<p>“You gonna be diggin’ in the fields again?” Arthur asked, taking a small sip of his drink.  The coffee burned down his throat and he savored it.  </p>
<p>Jamie’s eyes glittered with anticipation.  “You would not believe how good this land is, Arthur.  The soil is in the perfect growing conditions-”</p>
<p>Arthur waved his hand.  “I heard it before. You go have yourself fun diggin’ your holes, Jamie.  I’ll be doin’ the usual work.” His usual work - working the small farm of several horses, cows, pigs, chickens, and goats.  Arthur had been placed in charge of purchasing the animals and making sure the farm was fit for them, while Jamie had hired a few hands to work on the fields.  Harvesting season wasn’t for another few months, when the task of picking all the apples would be their main priority.  </p>
<p>Gillis Orchard had once been an old, run down orchard farm, owned by an older man who hadn’t been able to take care of it anymore.  Jamie, with his swift knowledge and persistence, had swept in and managed to buy the farm, using much of his inheritance. It would take a few years before Gillis Orchard would see profits, and Arthur would see to it that would happen.  </p>
<p>In the meantime, Arthur helped fix up the two story old farmhouse, which had been in dire need of repair and fresh paint.  Over the past few months, it had taken him a while to work long days, slowly building up all the muscle mass he had lost. Every now and then he’d remember his fatigued appearance, every time he hated himself when he looked into a mirror… It felt like so long ago.  Now he was in the best shape he had ever been in. He still considered himself an ugly brute, but at least he didn’t look like he was dying anymore. The pills from Francis Sinclair had since run out, having done their job. Arthur was himself again. That’s all that mattered.</p>
<p>He prided himself in his work on the farm.  It was something meaningful, more so than he had ever done in his life.  He truly believed this is where he meant to be.</p>
<p>At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself of.</p>
<p>It was around noon when his stomach was growling and he was finishing hammering in fresh wood around the fence line when he saw a wagon traveling along the main road, a white splotch against the grove of green orchard trees.  He inwardly groaned. He had forgotten this was the day Mary and Albert were arriving. It was the first of many days, as Mary and Albert prepared for their wedding and their move into an estate a couple miles away. They were to be married in a few weeks, right in Gillis Orchard.  </p>
<p>Invitations had been delivered to everybody Mary knew, people she had introduced Arthur to eons ago when they were a couple.  People of high status and absolutely pompous. Granted, Arthur had placed it safe around her friends, not wanting Mary’s friends to know she had been courting an outlaw.  If they even bothered to remember him.</p>
<p>Arthur grabbed his shirt, which he had kicked off in the heat of day, and shrugged it on.  He’d best go greet Mary and Albert. </p>
<p>“Arthur!” Albert shouted from the wagon.  He hopped off and helped Mary down, a smile on both their faces.  Albert’s photography had taken off in New York City, as his photographs had been published in several newspapers and books.  </p>
<p>“Hello Albert, Mary,” Arthur said, smiling, despite dreading the coming weeks.  “Glad to see you two finally made it.” He went to the back of the wagon and started grabbing their luggage.  “Jamie is probably buried in the fields somewhere, he might be a little bit distracted.”</p>
<p>“This is a lovely place,” Mary said, looking around, a sunburned flush on her face.  She held an umbrella, which Arthur suspected she had used too late. Still, she seemed in high spirits.  Her bright green gown matched the shade of the orchard behind her and her hair was pinned back, painting a lovely picture against the landscape. “I never ventured far into the New York countryside.”</p>
<p>Albert grabbed the rest of the luggage.  “Brought you a few copies of the Empire Gazette, Arthur.  Mr. Bauer asked about you. If you’re ever looking to move back to New York-”</p>
<p>“I had my time with newspaper drawin’,” Arthur cut him off with a chuckle.  “You tell ole’ Tim he gonna have to get someone else for that.” </p>
<p>“Well, no matter.  I was wondering if you’d show me around? I would love to photograph this place.” </p>
<p>Chores put aside, Arthur saddled up two horses and he and Albert went out into the countryside while Mary made herself at the home.  The farmhouse only boasted three bedrooms, with the third given to Mary. Albert would live in his estate to the weeks up to the wedding, and then Mary would move in with him, as was proper.</p>
<p>Arthur brought Albert to a small pond, usually packed full of frogs and other insects.  It was one of Arthur’s favorite places to relax, with a few fallen down logs he used for a place to sit.  Albert hummed as he unpacked his camera and set it up, while Arthur sat down and stretched his legs.</p>
<p>“You gonna be happy out here?” Arthur asked him.  “You won’t have much freedom to explore like you have been.”  He ached for a cigarette. It had been almost two years now he had been without one, but it was moments like this he would have enjoyed one.  Ever since his lungs had gotten healthy again, he had tried to steer clear, and he would try to keep it that way.</p>
<p>“Oh, you know,” Albert chimed happily.  “There’s more to life than just traveling around, right?  I have a successful photography business and Mary’s happy to support me.  I’ve told her I may take trips, and she’s just fine with that. She knows this is what I love.  She’s not quite the same as you knew, Arthur. She’s… responsible. Sensible. But she’s learned a lot from you, and she’s… yes, she’s still embedded into this high life society.  It’s who she is, but she’s trying her best. She’s… she’s wonderful, Arthur. I couldn’t imagine a future without her.”</p>
<p>“You ain’t no outlaw, that’s for sure.  That probably helps.” Arthur focused on ripples in the pond.  He wondered if he should have brought his sketchbook. He had drawn the bullfrogs plenty of times. </p>
<p>Albert adjusted the camera legs on the ground, faced it towards Arthur and snapped a picture.  “You and I hadn’t discussed much about it. I want you to know we both care for you, Arthur. We just don’t want to see you lonely, that’s all.”</p>
<p>Arthur scoffed.  “We ain’t here to talk about my love life, Albert.”</p>
<p>“We invited Bethany to the wedding,” Albert said quickly.  He turned the camera and snapped a picture of the pond. After a pregnant pause he said, “You remember her?”</p>
<p>“You know I do.”</p>
<p>“Good.  She’ll be here within the week.  I want you to consider asking her out, take her places.  Show her around. Woo her, if I must say.”</p>
<p>Arthur ran his hands down his face.  “You’re relentless,” he mumbled. He thought of Bethany, and instead of seeing her pleasant face, he imagined Sadie.  Walking arm in arm with the dark haired stranger, back in St. Denis. Having moved on. It was a surprise to him, really.  Sadie had been so set on living on the edge, creating chaos everywhere she went. It was hard to imagine her settling down, only months after leaving each other.  Arthur regretted not running up to her and saying he was alive. It wasn’t fair to her. She would have liked to know.  </p>
<p>He had returned to St. Denis by train the very next day and had scoured around for her out of regret, and the fear of losing her completely.  He hadn’t found her. He had asked around at nearly every establishment - there were no answers to his questions. Nobody could tell him where Sadie Adler had gone or been.  The hotels wouldn’t give out her name. If Arthur was truly an outlaw, he would have lifted a pistol and demanded answers.  </p>
<p>He wasn’t an outlaw anymore.  But he had so <em> badly </em> wanted to shoot someone in frustration.</p>
<p>“Let’s not talk about this no more,” he sighed, standing up.  “Here, I got a few other places to show you for your photographs.”  Hopefully, Albert would take this as a hint and stop asking him questions.  Knowing him, the quiet wouldn’t last long.</p>
<p>
  <em> Sadie </em>
</p>
<p>She stood outside a hotel in New York City, Freckles reins in her hands.  They had just gotten off the train the day before and she was still in shock of the vastness of the city.  Her little house she had owned in the mountains was nothing compared to this place. There, she admired the space she had to herself.  Here, she was at risk of bumping shoulders with somebody every other minute. Apartments and shops were stacked together. Sadie thought it was suffocating.</p>
<p>Edward Maas, however, was flourishing.  He was city born and raved about how convenient cities were and how much it had to offer.  Sadie had yet to see the appeal, but Edward was supplying her paycheck, so she went along with it.  When it came time for her to cut loose, she would do so as quick as she could.</p>
<p>She was afraid there would be an awkward atmosphere between the two of them.  After she had refused to stick with Edward, she had left him to go back to bounty hunting.  And now, the man acted like nothing was an issue. He offered nothing to her besides friendship and their potential business relationship.  How long that would last, Sadie wasn’t too sure.</p>
<p>She looked to the sky, the deep blue color distorted from the grey smoke from the nearby factories.  She imagined the stars were difficult to see at night; how anyone could live like that, she wasn’t sure.  She loved nothing more than seeing the stars stretch for miles and miles… </p>
<p>A tall, dark haired man stepped out of the hotel, keeping his head low.  He was dressed in fine black and red clothing, though upon closer inspection, she could see the clothes were old and starting to fade at the creases.  They were familiar, even. He looked up and they made eye contact; she held her breath. The dark mustache, older face now sporting a full beard and a hint of crow’s feet, and brushed back hair.  Dark brown eyes she had seen go from a sympathizing figure, to a crazed, chaotic and power obsessed figure. </p>
<p>The eyes were vacant.  Cold. No ounce of the sympathy she had once seen.  They bore no recognition of her; merely a shell of what they had once been.  Dutch van der Linde continued down the street, quickly swallowed by the crowd.  It was such a surprise to Sadie she took a second to recollect herself, a low fire burning in her gut.</p>
<p>She stormed into the crowd, pushing aside people who stood in her way.  She’d demand answers, demand him to regret what he did to Arthur-</p>
<p>Someone tugged on her arm and she swerved back into a shotgun hilt smacking her cleanly in the face.  Stars danced across her vision as she fell back to the dusty ground, darkness instantly claiming her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Sadie </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A high pitched squeal jerked Sadie awake, instantly sending a wave of pain through her head.  She shut her eyes and laid back on the rocky ground as spots danced around her vision. She ran her tongue around her mouth, tasting the bitter taste of blood.   The ringing in her ears faded away as she heard men shouting orders for everybody to stay back - she opened her eyes blearily and saw the policemen surrounding her, Edward at her side with a worried glint in his dark green eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held a white handkerchief covered in bloodstains.  “How are you feeling?” he asked her.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Help me up,” she groaned, holding out a hand.  He leaned down and put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her up slowly.  She gasped as an ache coursed through her head and she doubled over, waiting for it to pass.  Blood dribbled from her nose onto the dusty road and she swore. Her nose must be broken, at this rate.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward leaned over and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ears.  “We’ll get you to a doctor. Whoever hit you, hit you hard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie glared at him, trying to recall why she was lying on the ground in the first place.  Who was - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dutch. </span>
  </em>
  <span> She jumped up, ignoring the pain in her head, and looked around the crowd wildly. She was in the middle of the street, surrounded by a few police officers and a crowd of curious onlookers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She dove into the crowd and felt Edward grab her hand. She stopped in her tracks, ignoring the crowd around her, and glared at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” he demanded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None of your goddamn business,” she scowled at him and tried to yank her hand back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held firmly.  “Yes, it is. You’re my employee, and you rushing around covered in blood with a broken nose is not going to help your case.  We’re headed to a doctor. Now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to find him!” Sadie snapped and pulled her hand away with a vicious tug.  “He can’t get away with this.” She stormed away, Edward quick on her heels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?  Help me understand, Sadie, so I can help you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She chose a random alleyway and jogged through it, eyes searching wildly for any movement of the man.  He had to be here somewhere, he can’t just have knocked her out and not expect her to look for him … </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned a corner, which ran into a dead end filled with empty crates and a makeshift bed filled with old food cans and several rats.  She kicked a wooden crate in frustration. There was no way she’d find him in the city. He knew how to hide; he was long gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward watched her quietly as she stomped about the space.  It was a few moments before he spoke. “Let’s get you to a doctor, Sadie,” he said in a small voice.  “You don’t have to explain it to me. Let’s take care of your wounds. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a few moments of seething until Sadie clenched her fists and took a deep breath.  She gave one firm nod to Edward, not making eye contact. He wandered over and placed an arm about her shoulders, and led her out of the alleyway.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later, when she had left the doctor’s office and stopped at a nearby hotel to use the bathing room, she tried to figure out what Dutch was doing in the city. There wasn’t any doubt he was scheming again.  It’s what he prided himself in, it’s what he did for his living. Always about the money. There must be something big happening here. There was money everywhere - banks, restaurants, business men. Even Edward Maas would be a potential victim.  He was rich, owned a large logging business, and dealt with transportation of money. It irked her to see Dutch this close.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no second guessing it.  She would have to stay in Edward’s company for a few months, before she decided Dutch was no longer a threat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paused by the mirror and brushed her wet hair back into a tight braid.  Bruises started forming along her right cheek, where it had taken the brunt of the blow.  She wished she had seen who attacked her - it couldn’t have been Dutch. He had been running ahead of her.  Maybe Micah was still working with him. It was hard to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t much to do about her nose.  The doctor said it was possibly fractured, only the tiniest curve to it.  She didn’t mind so much, though the raging headache had yet to go away, and the herbal medicine she had taken only seemed to help a tiny bit.  She had tossed the grey bloodied shirt and would purchase another before they left town.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew Edward was full of questions, and if she were to stay with him, she owed him an explanation.  A partial truth, at least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t until they were riding out of the city, headed north to a small town where a sawmill was up for sale, when Sadie decided to speak to Edward.  She hung back and rode side by side with him, Freckles happily keeping pace with his horse. Edward barely offered her a glance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t happy with her, that was plain.  “Hey,” she began, not quite knowing where to start.  “I want to explain something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?  And what did I do to deserve this honor?” Edward retorted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was fair.  She knew she deserved his snark.  “I… want to thank you, for helpin’ me out back there.”  He didn’t respond, so she continued. “I saw someone I knew, someone I had once trusted.  He… turned out to be a bad man, a man who betrayed me and my friends.” Her mouth went dry as she remembered how nice Dutch was at first, how friendly and caring it was.  How it turned out just to be an act when things didn’t go his way.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw him, there, on the streets.  And I followed him. He ain’t the one who knocked me out.  He’s workin’ with someone, I’m sure of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did he do to you?” Edward asked.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He… he’s an outlaw.  He knows how to talk, knows how to manipulate.  He’ll do anythin’ for money, Edward. Now that he’s here, I… I don’t trust him.  He schemes, and with the risk of transportin’ payroll… I’m gonna stick around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward bit his lip as if musing his options.  He hadn’t taken the time to shave today, as he often didn’t bother when he was traveling.  As a rich bachelor, Sadie couldn’t comprehend how he hadn’t been married yet. She’s never bothered to ask, never cared enough.  With his chiseled face and soft green eyes, it was beyond her. The sun had given his skin a nice tan and his strong cheekbones were flushed from the heat.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn’t taken the time to look at him.  Really look at him. She wasn’t about to now, but- she wouldn’t mind calling him a friend.  He and his group of guards had always been friendly to her, and she supposed it was time to start giving back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to ask how you know an outlaw,” he began, “but I appreciate you wanting to stay.  I could always use you as an extra hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… actually, have a request.  Don’t take this the wrong way, this is merely an invitation to a friend.”  Edward shifted awkwardly in his saddle. “An old friend of mine, back when I lived in the city… she reached out to me, and invited me to her wedding.  We always kept in touch. It’s why I timed coming out this way, right now… she’s living in the town where my sawmill will be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” Sadie raised an eyebrow.  “An old flame?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah.  Back then, she had eyes for another.  She was always drawn to the rough type,” Edward said, smiling sheepishly.  “There was no hope for us, even if I wanted it. She even got married, but sadly lost her husband a good five or so years ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, you didn’t swoop in and marry her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t the right time.  Anyways, would you like to accompany it with me?  It won’t be much. Just a dinner sometime during the week, and the reception, of course.  After that, it’ll be back to escorting payrolls.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now it was Sadie’s turn to squirm in her seat.  “I dunno, Edward. It sounds all fancy-like, and I didn’t even bother bringin’ a skirt with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say yes right away.  We’ve a few days yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie would dread it, but she said, “I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing stranger than seeing Albert is a dark tuxedo, beard trimmed short and hair swept back with pomade.  Albert was still very much the bumbling man, full of nerves and what ifs, yet his eyes were filled with stars. “Now, this is only a dinner,” Albert was saying to Arthur.  “I don’t have in-laws to impress. Mainly just her friends, who I’ve only met once or twice. It’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.  You keep tellin’ yourself that,” Arthur chuckled.  Like Albert, he was dressed in a dark suit, complete with silver cuff links and dark blue cravat.  The cuff links, a gift from Albert himself, was an item Arthur had never thought of owning. Not with his rough lifestyle.  After the whole event was over, he’d probably never wear them again. He had told so to Albert, who merely scoffed at him and said to keep the cuff links. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur admired himself in the mirror, frowning at his appearance once more.  He had chosen to wear a dark blue and black vest, which Jamie had said brought out his eyes as a tease, and had his beard promptly styled and trimmed.  It was only in the past year he had begun taking care of his beard; it was part of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Atticus </span>
  </em>
  <span>persona he had so developed.  In the past, his beard was simple.  Plain. He’d get rid of it, usually.  And now, it was a part of who he was.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he hated it when people called him Atticus.  It was another simple lie… but people like Timothy Bauer and Bethany didn’t know the real Arthur.   They could never know. It was a part of the reason why Arthur held back against pursuing Bethany. He wasn’t ready to tell her anything, and he would have to, if they started a relationship beyond friendship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It just wasn’t worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve never looked better,” Albert commented.  “You’ve come a long way from when we first found you in that cabin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I owe a lot of it to you and Mary.”  Arthur had inquired once how Sinclair had managed to get both Albert and Mary in on helping Arthur, and apparently, it had been quite simple.  Sinclair had first recruited Albert Mason, who just happened to be camping by. Mary, who was in between changing trains just another town away.  Albert and Sinclair had arrived, brought news of Arthur possibly dying, and Mary had left with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whether or not it was stupid of Mary to leave with men she didn’t know, Arthur wouldn’t argue.  She had trusted her gut, and hadn’t let the tension between she and Arthur come between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francis Sinclair was a confusing, life saving matchmaker.  Arthur would have loved to know more about him, and deep down, he knew he never would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They left the room and headed down the stairs where they would wait until guests arrived.  Albert’s parents had hired a chef and some hired hands, who had taken it upon themselves to decorate the entire house and orchard in decorations.  Outside tables had been placed, lined with pure white tablecloths with elaborate rose bouquets in the center.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the farmhouse being older, Arthur and Jamie had shaped it up quite a bit.  The old faded white paint had been replaced with fresh paint, the roof was brand new, and the fencing on the veranda had been replaced.   They’d only recently purchased new furniture for inside; simple in nature, but comfortable.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur knew he had a home there as long as Jamie remained unmarried… he would give it a year before he would have to search for a home of his own.  It was an issue for later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The issue at hand now was dealing with all these strangers on the farm.  They had been arriving in small waves, mostly couples and older folk. Mary had commented they expected no more than fifty people showing up, and that was fifty too many in Arthur’s book.  Most of the guests were from Albert’s side of the family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They left the farmhouse and Albert went to go find Mary, who was socializing with a group of women.  Jamie was nowhere in sight; most likely having found a hiding spot. Albert’s parents stood at the base of the farmhouse stairs, with Mrs. Mason waving her long fan as she observed the party.  Mr. Mason was on the older side, burly in nature, yet bearing the same features as Albert. It wasn’t him Arthur feared, it was Albert’s mother. With long creases on her face and a permanent scowl etched in her skin, she was a fearsome sight indeed.  She dressed as if she were twenty years younger, with a flattering wine red dress and a tall feathered hat.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur tipped his hat to them without a word and did his best to scurry away without them stopping him.  They, at least the mother, did not like him. Too rough around the edges, she’d said. She’d demanded to know Arthur’s history from the start.  Arthur hadn’t obliged her. She was not his problem. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He navigated around the tables and random guests and stopped by a long table complete with appetizers.  He grabbed a plate and loaded his dish. Nearby, a band started setting up their instruments next to an area dedicated to dancing, which was planned for later in the evening.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would be a long day indeed.  He grabbed a full bottle of beer… just in case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He headed off to the half finished gazebo by the pond, plate full of food and his journal in his satchel.  The gazebo was within view of the farmhouse, but far enough away not many would make the trek to it. The gazebo itself was still very much a work in progress.  It had been in poor shape when he’d found it, half overgrown with weeds, rodents, and rot. He had figured a bit of landscaping would make it a lovely area. Considering Jamie was paying him decently to improve the farmhouse and land, Arthur had happily taken up the project.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frogs croaked nearby and a few of the goats were chomping on grass a few yards away from the gazebo.  They pranced away as he got closer. There was a makeshift chair inside the gazebo, which he sat down in.  It wasn’t the most comfortable, but he much preferred the silence to the chaos of the party.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lost himself to his journal, writing and doodling in length.  The wind picked up, catching the scent of the trees and wildflowers.  His plate full of cheese, grapes, meat was devoured within minutes. He sipped his beer, not wanting to drink it too fast. It’d been awhile since he had let himself drink.  He would savor it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur,” he heard Mary say softly.  He looked up from his journal and snapped it closed.  She stood at the entrance of the gazebo, dressed in a soft pink dress, frilled at the neckline and at the cuffs.  Her hair was curled and pinned back, her face freshly painted with soft and natural makeup.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should join us,” Mary said.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, I ain’t much for fancy parties.  That hasn’t changed.” Arthur stood up and dusted himself off.  “You seem happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled.  “I am. It took forever to get here… and now it’s all happening so fast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I am happy for you, Mary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just stopped by… to make sure you’re okay.  I know, with our history…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur waved a hand dismissively.  “It is history, Mary. When we ended things, it ended badly.  I don’t want that to stand between us. So…” He cleared his throat and held out a hand.  “Friends?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grabbed his hand, her hand light in his. “Of course.  Friends.” She pulled her hand away and held her hands to her chest.  “Please, let me introduce you around. I want people to know the man behind building this farm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At Arthur’s skeptical look, she continued, “It won’t be for long.  Most of them are pleasant, decent people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Arthur sighed and put his journal away. They began walking back, navigating through the tall grass and weeds the goats hadn’t yet chewed away. “Let’s get this over with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary lightly shoved his arm as she laughed, “Don’t sound so depressing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let himself be dragged around, introducing himself as Atticus Adler, hired farmhand for Jamie Gillis.   If anyone was quick to dismiss Arthur for his title, Mary was quick to point out his work as an artist for the Empire Gazette.  The conversations drained Arthur very quickly. It was clear these people were made from money, right from their clothing to their attitude.  It reminded him of the time he spent at the formal party of Angelo Bronte.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur now understood why Albert’s parents had gone to such lengths to pretty up the place.  They needed to impress these people. Arthur hated it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled away from a group, claiming he needed to get a glass of water.  He noticed Bethany sitting at a table by her lonesome, so he stopped by and sat next to her.  “Nice to see you again, Bethany,” he said. “How’s the newspaper holdin’ ya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s fine.  It’s nice to get out into the country,” she said, blushing at his gaze.  She had spent some time on her appearance, with her brown curls pulled back into a bun, and her dress a sky blue.  “We’ve been getting quite a few requests for your artwork, Atticus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do miss drawin’ for the newspaper, but I’m happier here, with this.”  Arthur waved his hand to the orchard behind him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is lovely.  Albert said you might give me a tour?” Her green eyes sparkled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.”  Arthur stood and shrugged off his outer jacket and set it on the back of the chair.  The sun had been beating down on them and was ruthless in the middle of the day. “I can show you around.”  He held out his arm to her as she stood, and they wandered away from the group.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took her to the gazebo first.  The walk over was quiet, as if they didn’t know what to say.  He let go of her arm and wandered into the gazebo. “This ain’t much to look at, but I plan to fix the wood up here and give it a fresh coat of paint. Maybe get a proper bench in here.”  He lifted a piece of plywood and pushed it aside. “When it’s sunset, it’s mighty pretty, with the sun comin’ through the trees and the pond reflectin’...”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood in the middle of the gazebo lost in his own thoughts.  He turned to look back at Bethany, finding she had moved right beside him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood on her toes and kissed him, her lips soft against his.  It was quick, short and sweet, with her backing away in a flurry. She flushed and looked away.  “I’m sor-sorry, that was very forward of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was blinded.  He felt his face turn red and he looked away.  He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t known she’d be the one to make a first move.  It wasn’t that he was flustered. Maybe he was; it’d been a long time since… he shook his head.  He just didn’t feel that way about her. “Bethany, I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes caught sight of yellow hair and a freckled, pale face.  His heart raced and he suddenly felt lightheaded. A face he had never forgotten; someone he had been dying to see again.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was here.  Standing in front of him.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sadie. </span>
  </em>
  <span> Standing a few feet away from him, dressed in a white and yellow gown, her hair slightly curled about her shoulders.  She looked as fierce and beautiful as ever. There was anguish on her face, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sadie,” he said, his voice deep with disbelief.  “You…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her pale face quickly turned red and her eyes shot daggers at him, fists clenched at her side.  She crossed the few steps in between them and slapped him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Arthur </em>
</p>
<p>He deserved it, he really did.  </p>
<p>He could have swore the slap echoed.  A flock of songbirds dispersed behind him, scattering to the sky.  How strong was that arm of hers, anyways? He held his cheek, the skin red and burning.  He looked back at her - had forgotten how tall she was, only a few inches shorter than him - and nearly flinched at her angry face.  Her brown eyes spewed a wrath that chilled him to his core. She was absolutely fuming. </p>
<p>“I can explain,” he began slowly.  “... but not here.”</p>
<p>A dark haired man, who he had seen with Sadie in St. Denis, murmured something to Sadie and tried to pull her away.  She shook her head vigorously in response and marched away toward the grove of orchard trees.</p>
<p>Arthur looked back to find Mary, who mouthed <em> I’m sorry </em>to him.  She had most likely made a connection with Sadie and had brought her to see him.  He muttered to Bethany, “‘cuse me,” and trailed after Sadie, hating how crestfallen Bethany looked.  That was him. Always a failure to people. No matter how right he tried to be, it always backfired on him.</p>
<p>He followed Sadie deep into the trees, ducking under the long branches and leaves.  Despite the tension in the air, birds chirped pleasantly in the background as if nothing was wrong.  Sadie didn’t stop until she reached one of the larger apple trees and whirled back to face him. She crossed her arms and merely lifted an eyebrow, looking like a lioness ready to attack.  </p>
<p>“You survived,” she snapped.  “How?”</p>
<p>Arthur took a deep breath.  “I don’t know.” </p>
<p>“How do you not know?” Sadie said, her voice cracking with anger.  </p>
<p>“I don’t.  All I know is, I was dead on that mountain, Sadie.  I really was. Last I remember…” Arthur was pacing now, recalling the memories he had tried to block for the past year and a half.  He hated thinking of it. Hated the moment Dutch had left him to die. It chilled him to his very core. “I was beaten, left for dead on that mountain.  I felt the last breath go out of me. It was nothin’ like I ever felt. And then I woke up in a cabin with Mary and Albert, claiming someone named Francis Sinclair had pulled me off the mountain.” </p>
<p>Sadie’s gaze had softened, yet still possessed a deadly gleam to her eyes.  “You spoke of Francis Sinclair before. How you found him as a baby.”</p>
<p>“That’s why I can’t explain how.  I was given medicine, which I took, and my tuberculosis went away.  That just don’t <em> happen, </em> Sadie.  You know as well as I do that TB is nothin’ more than a slow death sentence.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you come find me?”</p>
<p>“I wanted to, I really did.”  Arthur stopped pacing now and made eye contact.  “Pinkertons were everywhere. John’s face was posted everywhere I went.  It wasn’t safe to look for you and I knew you would do a too good job hidin’.  Besides… I was extremely weak. I was stuck to my bed for a week, and I left with Mary and Albert for New York.  To heal. Once I got enough money, I went searchin’ for you.”</p>
<p>“I… admit, I made sure John and Abigail were difficult to track down.  We didn’t bother leavin’ traces for anyone to follow, once… once I had news of your death.”  She looked down to the ground and gripped her arms tightly. “They’re safe. I thought you was dead, and…” she paused and blinked.  “You said you searched for me?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“When?”</p>
<p>“About a year ago.  I spent several weeks doin’ it, but…”</p>
<p>“I thought…” she bit her lip.  “I thought I saw you, back then, in St. Denis.”</p>
<p>Arthur stilled and clenched his fists.  The lightheadedness was coming back. </p>
<p>“I did, didn’t I?  At the train station?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” His voice was light.  </p>
<p>“And I didn’t stop you.  I saw you as you got on the train but I, you were dead.  So I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was a cruel trick.”</p>
<p>She would hate him for this.  She would absolutely be disgusted with him, but he had to say it.  “I did see you too, Sadie.”</p>
<p>“What?” She exploded.  “Why didn’t you, I dunno, stop me and say you was alive!?” </p>
<p>“I don’t… you was with someone.  I thought… I thought you didn’t need me.”  Sadie turned away from him, face blank, and he took a few step forwards, hand stretched out.  “You looked happy, had found someone. I didn’t wanna step in and mess up your life.”</p>
<p>“You shoulda,” she whispered, barely audible.  “He’s my employer, Arthur. I work as his bodyguard for his payroll wagons.  Nothin’ more. You see- losin’ you crushed me, Arthur. I ain’t been able to return to normal life.  I been bounty huntin’ on the side. I ain’t made many friends. This job pays well, but I sure ain’t gonna stick around for it forever.”</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, Sadie.  I never meant to hurt you.”</p>
<p>“You alive, but you chose to leave me yet.”  Sadie let out a quiet sob. “I dunno why I was achin’ for you, if that’s how little you think of me.”</p>
<p>“I think the world of you!” Arthur roared, surprised at himself.  He continued, “You were by my side when I chose to go a different path than Dutch.  You were by my side and protectin’ me when I was dyin’. We spent all that time together, that when I finally saw <em> you </em> , arm in arm with a potential… lover, whatever he may be, I thought I was too <em> late </em>.  It tore me up inside knowin’ what we promised each other wasn’t a possibility anymore!”</p>
<p>Sadie stormed closer to him.  “You saw what losin’ my Jake did to me!  How angry I was! Did you not think I would be devastated when I heard you died?  I still ain’t the same as I was!”</p>
<p>Arthur had to resist reaching out and pulling her closer to him.  He wanted to do nothing more than embrace her. “I do not think so highly of myself to compare myself to your husband, Sadie.  There’s a difference between a man and a wife, and… whatever we were.”</p>
<p>“Even a <em> friend </em> has the decency to tell someone they’re alive,” Sadie hissed.  She pushed him aside and marched off the way she had come. “Don’t follow me!”</p>
<p>Arthur watched her storm off, anger built up in his chest.  He reached down and grabbed a small rock and hurled it angrily into the orchard.  It bounced off a tree and rolled to the ground. He was furious. Furious about how stupid he had been, furious at how he hadn’t told Sadie he was alive.  They could have been reunited a year ago, and now a year had been lost between them due to his <em> foolishness </em>.</p>
<p>He collapsed against the apple tree and leaned his head in his hands.  “I’m a goddamn idiot,” he grumbled, and thought back to one of his last moments with Sadie. </p>
<p>
  <em> Beaver Hollow, Some Time Ago</em>
</p>
<p>It was a cold night in Beaver Hollow, the wind bringing a biting chill which had sapped Arthur’s energy for the night.  The heavy blanket about his shoulders was unsuccessfully keeping out the cold, and he shivered harshly. To add to the freezing temperature, his lungs felt like they were on fire with each breath and he did his best to breathe without hacking up a cough. </p>
<p>A blanket was placed around his shoulders and he looked up to find Sadie standing over him, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.  “Drink this,” she said, handing it to him. “It’ll soothe your throat.”</p>
<p>His throat was raw from coughing so hard.  He had to clear his throat before saying, “Thank you,” and he took a tiny sip.  Plain. Bitter. It would help, nonetheless.  </p>
<p>She sat down next to him, dressed in a heavy coat, a thin blanket around her shoulders as well.  She had coffee in her hand. “How’s tonight?”</p>
<p>“I’ve had better,” Arthur said, his voice course.  “Takin’ it one day at a time, I suppose.”</p>
<p>The recent events - losing Hosea and Lenny in St. Denis, John’s imprisonment, Guarma… it was starting to take a toll on him.  His limbs felt like he were dragging irons, his lungs burned, and his body was weak and frail. He hadn’t stopped losing weight.  Every ounce of muscle he had was gone. He hated looking at a mirror - the gaze looking back at him wasn’t familiar. It was skeletal, a near walking corpse. </p>
<p>He couldn’t deal with Micah and Dutch at the moment, as they kept to themselves nowadays.  Leaving Arthur out of the loop. Dutch never looked at him the same, never regarded Arthur with affection.  It was different, now, that Hosea was gone. The voice of reason was dead. It was only Dutch and his cruel plans, plans that kept endangering the gang.  </p>
<p>Arthur was quite done with it, frankly.  And his body was done with it as well. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to keep up for much longer.</p>
<p>“It’s a beautiful night,” Sadie said, looking at the stars.  </p>
<p>Arthur gave a slight nod, flicking his eyes to look up.  He hadn’t come here to look at the stars, merely to get away.  He had found the spot above Beaver’s Hollow, a quiet spot that overlooked the camp.  The clearing of the trees was just enough space to stargaze. It was a cloudless night, with only the wind intruding on them. </p>
<p>“When this is all over…” Sadie began, still looking up, focusing on a constellation.  “I wanna keep ridin’ with you, Arthur.”</p>
<p>When it was all over.  He wasn’t nearly as optimistic as her, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. He didn’t want to speak the words, that he may not make it very much longer.  Saying it would only finalize it, and he didn’t want to believe it. Not yet.</p>
<p>Sadie reached under the blanket and found his hand he kept clenched at his side.  He accepted the touch and held firmly, interlacing their fingers. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he said, dropping his gaze to look at her. </p>
<p>He had always thought she was beautiful, with her freckles and tiny scar above her brow.  Terrifying in personality and rage driven, to be sure, and excellent with a gun to boot. But he had seen the kindness that hid beneath the surface, the love and devotion she had.  It was clear how much she had cared for Jake, and had given her all to avenge him. Arthur particularly didn’t believe in the revenge business, but in her case… she had to deal with it, somehow.  Her life was torn from her. She was made into a killer.</p>
<p>“I ain’t got a clue what we’d do with ourselves,” she said, chuckling.  “Now that the O’Driscolls are dealt with, I ain’t too sure which way to go.  And you, you ain’t been much of an outlaw lately.”</p>
<p>It was true.  Arthur hadn’t robbed anybody for quite some time now, hadn’t collected debts, or gotten into a fight with anybody recently.  The O’Driscolls and gang aside, of course. Arthur had simply been existing. </p>
<p>“So what do you want to do?” she asked him.</p>
<p>“Go west.”  He took a sip of his tea.  “Oregon, or Washington. Where I was raised.”</p>
<p>“I ain’t ever been.  Is it nice?” </p>
<p>“From what I can remember.  Pretty. Rolling hills, trees, green for as long as the eye can see.  Left when my father was hung.”</p>
<p>Sadie said, “I’m sorry.”  She had heard the story before, how his father had been hung for larceny and had left Arthur to fend for himself on the streets.  How Dutch had rescued him and taken him under his wing. Had saved him, really. Arthur would have probably ended up dead in a ditch for all he knew.  </p>
<p>The fondness that had been there between Dutch and Arthur had vanished.  </p>
<p>He noticed Sadie shiver.  He let go of her hand and pulled his blanket around her, just big enough for the both of them.  It was a small risk, as his tuberculosis was contagious - but it was hard to transfer. She made no comment about it, only snuggled closer, taking his hand in hers again and laying her head on his shoulder. </p>
<p>It had been awhile since he’d allowed anybody to get close to him like this.  If life was headed a different direction, he’d…  </p>
<p>“Sadie,” he said.  He had to say it. “I ain’t gonna lie.  I might not have much time left.”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” she responded softly.  “Don’t say it, Arthur.”</p>
<p>“But I wanna dream, for once.  Maybe, if I survive after all this, when we have the money Dutch keeps talkin’ about… maybe I’ll get out of this life.  Live a legal one. Own a house, land, horses. I had the opportunity, once, with Eliza....”</p>
<p>She knew about Eliza, too.  He had told her the entire story one night, when they had gone hunting together.  He remembered that night fondly. He hadn’t shared something personal like that in years; and she, too, had shared stories of her life.  They were comfortable with each other, and he realized she was the one thing missing from his life. A partner. </p>
<p>“... but you know I messed that up.  Wasn’t dedicated enough. I was a fool.  I missed out raising my son.” He licked his dry lips in thought.  He should feel nervous, holding her this close. Yet all he felt was peace. “Maybe, if I survive, you would ride with me.  We’d build a house together. Live off the land. Make money legally. Maybe I’ll raise horses.”</p>
<p>Sadie snorted quietly.  “Why, that sounds mighty forward.”  At Arthur’s quick protest, she continued, “But yes, I’d like that.  Very much so. There ain’t another person alive I’d rather have by my side than you, Arthur Morgan.”  </p>
<p>“I won't want to desert you like I did Eliza.”  He turned his head and pressed his lips against her hair and breathed deeply.  She smelled heavily of smoke and coffee. “But I can’t promise it. Not when I’m like this.”</p>
<p>She brought up his hand and kissed the back of it, ever so softly.  “I know. We’ll just take it one day at a time.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Sadie </em>
</p>
<p>The memory of Beaver Hollow was fresh in her mind, numbing her to her core.  In the weeks leading up to promising a life together, they had shared meals together.  Gone on hunting trips, missions, fought O’Driscolls together. Shared long glances, teasing words.  Sadie couldn’t have found a better partner. She had trusted him completely - he had helped her heal.  Become a person again. Supported her.</p>
<p>Then he had died and her heart was broken into pieces once more.  And he had shown up nearly a year and a half later, alive, and hadn’t told her when he had the chance to.</p>
<p>It infuriated her to no end.  She’d been mourning him for so long… it was all too much for her.  She made her way back to the farmhouse, where she ignored everybody looking at her and stuffed a plate full of food.  She was stuck here until Edward decided to leave, and then she would be gone for good.</p>
<p>Or so she told herself.  She knew she couldn’t leave, not when Arthur was still<em> alive. </em>  She just needed time to herself, time to process everything.  The dining tables were still free of people, so she chose the farthest one and sat down.</p>
<p>When she learned it was Mary Linton getting married, she was blown away.  She knew Mary was Arthur’s old flame, had heard how Mary had given up on marrying him.  When Sadie arrived at the dinner, she had pulled Mary aside with the intent to tell her of Arthur’s passing.  Mary had paled, gripped Sadie’s arm, led her to a private area, and had told her.</p>
<p>Arthur was alive, living as Atticus Adler.  Mary had pointed towards a pond and Sadie hadn’t continued the conversation, hadn’t learned<em> how </em>Arthur had been alive.  She had to see it for herself, so she had practically ran over to the gazebo.</p>
<p>And witnessed him kiss another woman.  Or the woman had kissed him, but that was besides the point.  It had still happened and Sadie had felt like a dagger had been run through her heart.  It was too much and she had slapped him without thinking.</p>
<p>His cheek was beginning to bruise when they argued in the orchard.  She regretted slapping him now, nevertheless, she still felt he deserved it for lying.</p>
<p>“You must be Sadie Adler,” a man said, pulling a chair out beside her and sitting down.  Mary’s betrothed, if she remembered right. “Albert Mason, at your service. I’m sure you have questions about Arthur.”  He motioned his head toward Arthur, who headed up the stairs and into the farmhouse, his expression unreadable. He slammed the door behind him.</p>
<p>“I don’t care,” Sadie ground out.  </p>
<p>Albert took off his hat and dotted his forehead with a handkerchief.  “The first week, Mary and I took care of him in an old cabin. He was on the brink of death, almost touch and go for a few days.  He had nightmares. Would ask about you. He was still too weak, however, and so we took him to New York, where he could regain his strength, work a job.  He tried looking for you, once he earned proper money. We found him with nothing, you know. Had to build himself from the ground up. He said he had found you, but wouldn’t go into details.  Considering you showed up with Mr. Maas, well, I can say…”</p>
<p>“Mr. Maas and I have a business relationship.  That’s all. Frankly, it ain’t your business.”</p>
<p>Albert stood up and straightened his vest.  “That’s fair.” He grabbed his hat, put it on and pocketed his handkerchief.   “You’re the best thing that’s happened to this man, Sadie. He’s made mistakes and he’s been living with it for the past year.  I only want the best for him… and I hope you’ll want the same, too, for his sake and yours. Please, enjoy the party.” With that, Albert went away and joined Mary with her group of friends.  Edward stood right by Mary, looking at Sadie expectantly, waiting for her to wave him over. She didn’t.</p>
<p>Sadie sniffed, knowing Albert was right.  </p>
<p>She had always regretted never telling Arthur how she felt about him.  How she could love him, the way she had loved Jake with all her heart. How she would have taken care of him, how they would build a life together, not only as a friend, but as his partner in life and soul.  </p>
<p>The words had been too big at the time, a promise she was afraid of speaking.  She was surely a fool. </p>
<p>And now, as she watched the woman who had kissed Arthur follow him into the house, she was sure she had missed any chances she had to tell him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur heard a knock on his door and slowly sat up from his bed, knowing he shouldn’t be hiding as he was.  It was childish, but what was he to do? Sadie hated him and he didn’t want to face it. He stood up and walked to the door after another persistent knock, and opened the door to find Bethany standing there, anxiety plain on her face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you doing?” she asked.  She held her hands in front of her nervously.  “I didn’t know if you’d want me here or not…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last place he wanted to be alone with her was his bedroom.  “I’ll come out, one second.” He closed the door and went over to his wash bin to rinse his face with cold water.  The water was refreshing but did little to help. His reflection showed a light bruise beginning to form on his cheek.  If anything, he was impressed with Sadie’s strength.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now he needed some clarity.  There was no beating around the bush he had made a mistake.  He would be straight with Bethany, as well. There was no sense dragging her along and giving her false hope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He met her out in the living room and sat down on a chair across from her.  He leaned over on his elbows and laced his hands together. “Bethany, I…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” she said quietly.  “She has the same last name as you.  She’s your wife, isn’t she?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, no,” Arthur said.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had forgotten about that entirely.  “We just happen to share the last name.” Bethany looked skeptical, so he continued, “but we were close friends.  I won’t go into detail. I… left. Without telling her. So, she was surprised to find me here. And angry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bethany’s face scrunched up in concern.  “Angry enough to slap you? That bruise doesn’t look pretty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a firecracker, to be sure.  She means well.” He fiddled with his fingers.  “There’s a lot in my past I been tryin’ to forget.  Tryin’ to move on. I appreciate you bein’ a friend, Bethany, and I enjoy your company...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shifted in her seat and looked away, toward the large bay window at the front of the house.  “I fear there’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> coming.  There’s no hope for us, is there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.  I’m sorry.  I’d like to be friends, though.  I’ve always enjoyed your company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bethany stood, still avoiding his eye contact.  “Of course. I’m going to take a walk, Atticus. Thank you… for being honest.”  She left the house, footsteps soft against the carpet. The door clicked shut quietly behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>was why Arthur stayed clear of women romantically.  Too many mixed emotions, feelings, and unsaid words.  He had tried it before and failed. He had considered Karen, Mary-Beth, Abigail, and Tilly to be among his best of friends, and had steered clear of them in any way romantically for a reason.  He knew he would mess it up like he had with Eliza.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the start, he had regarded Sadie the same way: friends. But once he started having dreams of the future, away from the gang… he started having dreams of being with someone.  And that someone had been Sadie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed it was time to stop hiding and head outside.  It was time for dinner, and there were toasts to be said. Maybe he could find an opening talking to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left the house, only to find Mrs. Mason waiting for him outside.  He didn’t resist when she put her arm around his, and navigated him around the veranda corner, away from prying eyes.  The band played cheerful music in the background and he could hear laughter from the group. At least they were having a fun time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trust you won’t do anything more foolish,” she warned in a low voice.  “This is our son’s day. You will not ruin it for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur pulled his arm away slowly.  “I ain’t plannin’ on that, Mrs. Mason.  I’ll behave myself for the party.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.”  Her eyes flashed and she stormed away.  He knew the reason she disliked him was for influencing Albert’s photography passion.  There had been several times he and Albert had scoured New York, looking for something new and exciting to photograph.  Albert’s clumsy bad luck always got the best of him and Arthur would have to swoop him out of danger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If anything, Mrs. Mason should be grateful to him. Albert may have very well been eaten by an alligator if Arthur hadn’t been around and none of this would have come to be.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To appease her, he kept on the outskirts of the party, and merely watched from the sidelines.  Sadie kept to herself at one of the tables, chatting ever so often with Edward Maas. Her employer.  Anyone could see the puppy dog eyes Edward gave Sadie. He must have some redeeming qualities if Sadie had chosen to work for him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night went on in a slow blur.  Arthur toned out the long speeches during the toast and sipped on a pint of beer.  As the heat of the day began to pass and dinner was served, people started dancing, the band changing their songs to slower tunes. Jamie stopped by and they chatted about the farm and the possibilities, how another orchard not too far away was up for sale, and then Jamie was off as a pretty woman asked him shyly to dance.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Last time Arthur had danced, it had been with Miss Grimshaw.   He blinked quickly and wiped away his suddenly watering eyes. He hadn’t thought of Miss Grimshaw in awhile.  It brought a lump to his throat, remembering the way she had been killed. She hadn’t deserved that.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was nursing his second beer when he started working up the nerve to talk to Sadie and he eventually relented he couldn’t do it.  He had done enough, he supposed, and it was up to her to come to him. As the night went on, and he stayed at his spot at one of the tables, he saw Sadie stand and head towards him.  His heart thumped against his chest and he waited expectantly for her to approach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t.  She went over to Edward and whispered something in his ear.  Edward nodded, looking pleased, and they departed from the party.  Sadie gave one last brief glance to Arthur. It wasn’t filled with venom, hate, or disgust.  Arthur wasn’t too sure what to make of it. He didn’t make a move, not when Mrs. Mason had warned him not to do anything stupid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Sadie left, Arthur said goodnight to Mary and Albert and retired to his room, and tried to put himself to bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t work.  There were too many words left unsaid between them.  When the moon was high in the sky and the party had disbanded - the wedding was the day after tomorrow - he rose from his bed and put on his basic working clothes. The heat of the previous day had left the night air muggy, so he left his shirt unbuttoned as he headed outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He completed his morning chores, from feeding the goats, chickens, cows, pigs, and horses.  He grabbed a lantern and cleared out more of the rotten wood from the gazebo. They had received a shipment of wood not but a week ago, sitting on a wagon nearby.  Arthur didn’t bother hitching up a horse and pulling it closer; he needed the physical labor to take his mind off of Sadie. He made long trips transferring the long pieces of wood back and forth, then went to work on repairing the gazebo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Transitioning to farm life had come with a strong learning curve.  Arthur knew guns inside and out, had spent his whole life sharpening his aim.  It was a skill he was proud of, but not allowed to use much anymore. He only possessed one basic pistol he kept tucked away in his dresser.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carpentry was a skill in itself and Arthur had only had the last few months to learn.  Measuring out the wood properly and cutting it correctly had come with plenty of errors.  Assembling the structure took trial and error. The gazebo would be more difficult for him to figure out.  It felt refreshing being active.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the rooster finally crowed and the gazebo partially rebuilt, Arthur finally decided what to do.  He went to the barn and quickly saddled up Petunia, a brown mare with an easy going attitude. Albert had chosen the name and Arthur hadn’t argued.  He was racing down the road, the horse's feet kicking up dust clouds behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thirty minutes later he was entering the main town, headed to the hotel where many of the guests were staying.  He hoped that’s where she would be.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A familiar horse was hitched outside the small restaurant and he was off Petunia in a second.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freckles, his horse he had left behind, a beautiful white horse with a small scattering of brown spots, neighed when he approached.  “Hey boah,” he cooed as he stopped in front of him. He scratched the side of his neck affectionately, pleased Sadie had chosen to take Freckles with her.  He was one of the best and fastest horses Arthur had ever owned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Adler,” he heard from behind him.  He looked back and saw Edward, dressed in a light business suit and coat.  Three men stood behind him, glaring heavily at Arthur. Edward was clearly displeased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would like to talk to Sadie, for a moment,” Arthur said.  He took a step back, slightly embarrassed he hadn’t bothered to change from his working clothes.  They were dirty and greasy compared to how Edward’s clothes were. Edward was clearly made of money and knew it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’ll be along.  Tell her I’ll be waiting by the hotel,” Edward said.  He grabbed the reins to a black stallion and wandered away, his three men following.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur focused his attention on Freckles and brushed his fingers through his hair.  He had kept Freckle’s hair braided, as per Jack’s request. They had even stuck flowers throughout the braids, making a pretty sight.  It was a good memory of Jack. He missed that little boy. Hell, Arthur even missed John, despite the bickering they did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see you found Freckles,” Sadie said.  He snapped his attention to her. She stood on the deck of the restaurant, looking down on him.  She was dressed in dark pants and a bright yellow shirt, as was her usual. He had always thought yellow suited her.  “You been workin’ early this mornin’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Couldn’t sleep,” he said in defense.  Judging by the heavy bags under Sadie’s eyes, he figured she hadn’t either.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long pause as they stared at each other, waiting for each other to speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They said at once and stopped.  Arthur cleared his throat. “I’ll go first.  I am truly sorry, Sadie, for what I done. I really am and I wish I could have changed the past.  But I can’t. I’m here to ask your forgiveness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am sorry I slapped you,” Sadie said, her eyes focusing on the faded bruise.  “I never done that to anyone I cared about before. You… I know you, Arthur. You’re nothin’ but a good man.  I been thinkin’ what it would have been like for you, losin’ everything and I wasn’t bein’ easy to find. So I’m sorry, too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur ran a hand through his hair, wishing he didn’t feel so nervous.  He hadn’t felt this way since he was a younger man, it was silly. “Just… know that I’ve been missin’ you.  That’s... All I wanted to say. And if I could see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie flushed and gave a firm nod.  “I’d like that. We could start over.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur couldn’t help but break out into a wide smile, and he looked away as his heart fluttered in his chest.  He cleared his throat once more. “Edward said he’d wait for you at the hotel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have a meeting with several people today.  He’s lookin’ to purchase the sawmill a couple miles away from here.  It’ll be an all day thing.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>So I can’t stay, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she really meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So... I’ll see you tomorrow, then, at the weddin’.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.  I’ll be there.  We can start fresh,”  Sadie smiled, a real smile that nearly swept Arthur off his feet.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m real glad you takin’ care of Freckles.  There’s not a better horse around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie stepped down the few steps of the deck and stood only a couple feet from Arthur.  It was all he could do to hold back and not take her in his arms in a bone crushing embrace and take her mouth in his.  Skin against skin, passion flowing… Arthur coughed and looked away. He had to get control over his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She patted Freckles head.  “You sure you don’t want him back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Naw.  Me and Petunia here are just startin’ out a beautiful relationship,” Arthur chuckled and walked to the mare he had purely forgotten about.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie let out a small laugh and climbed the saddle.  As she settled down, her eyebrows scrunched in concern.  “Arthur, I do want to warn you. I saw Dutch in New York.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the childlike giddiness Arthur had felt dissipated.  He moved to the side of the horse and hopped up to the saddle.  “Did he say anythin’ to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but someone with him saw me and knocked me out so I couldn’t follow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur shot an alarmed look at her.  “What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged it off.  “Fractured my nose, but it healed just fine, I think.”  She touched the bridge of her nose with hesitation. “They clearly don’t want me knowin’ what they’re up to.  I’m gonna stick to Edward until he’s out of New York. He’s a potential victim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur wasn’t surprised.  Dutch was too stern about his ways, too unforgiving. He’d have a new gang by now.  He was just grateful Dutch hadn’t decided to outright kill Sadie and that she got away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.  See you then, Sadie,” Arthur promised.  He gave her a sheepish smile and she was off to the hotel, where Edward stood waiting outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur took his time riding home, his heart lighter than ever.  He wouldn’t think of Dutch right now, only the moment at hand. It was like a great weight was lifted off his chest and suddenly the future looked that much clearer.  He hadn’t felt like this in years. The doubt and anguish he had had to deal with nearly felt like they were over. He had a chance to restart with Sadie, a glimpse of hope for the future. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hooves pounding against the dirt road broke him out of his far off thoughts.  He looked back behind him to find two dark clad men, one holding a lasso in his hand, another a long rifle pointed directly at him.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Arthur kicked in his heels and Petunia shot forward into a gallop.  He jerked her right off the path and towards the hills up ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t fast enough.  The lasso was thrown with precision and wrapped around his torso and he let go of the reins and unhooked his feet from the stirrups, just in time for the rope to tighten around his chest and yank the air out of him as he was pulled off the horse.  He fell back on the ground, his head smacking against something hard, and all went black.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He woke up with a start sometime later, lying uncomfortably on his side.  His ears were ringing and his head was screaming at him. He moved his fingers, finding them bound behind his back.  His feet, too, were tied together. He gingerly moved around, every movement more painful with the last.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few minutes of deciding he couldn’t budge, he took a look at his surroundings.  The smell of old pine and cedar filled his nostrils. The red and orange haze from the sun filled the room through the cracks in the wall and the small broken window.  An old desk and chair was pushed against the small room and papers were scattered about. He lay on an old wood floor with debris of dirt and glass shards. Wherever he was, the place had been abandoned for quite some time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard deep voices from outside the door, becoming louder as they approached the room.  Arthur squirmed to sit up, ignoring the protest from his anguished head. He must’ve hit a rock when he fell off the horse.  Considering it was near sunset, he had been out for most of the day. Probably hadn’t helped he had not slept the night before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door slammed open and the two men who he had only glimpsed at barged in.  Arthur couldn’t do much to avoid their hands from grabbing him and dragging him out of the room.  He tried his best to put up a fight, but they held their grip firm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They let him fall to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well!  If it isn’t the old cowpoke, now?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That voice.  Arthur fought a shiver as he rolled over onto his back and sat up with a heave, ignoring the pain in his head.  “You goddamn son of bitch,” Arthur spat at the man leaning down, elbows on his knees.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Micah Bell knelt in front of him, a wide, nasty grin on his face.  He looked the same as ever, with the same blond mustache and shoulder length greasy hair.  “Thought I left you up there on that mountain to die, Morgan.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the plan now, Micah?  What poor soul are you backstabbin’ now?” Arthur held his gaze with the man, anger seeping into the pits of his stomach.  If his wrists weren’t bound, he’d wring Micah’s neck right then and there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Micah let out a long sigh and stood up.  “You have a knack for showin’ up where you’re not wanted, you know that?  Seen you talkin’ with the Mrs. Adler back at town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was you who attacked her in New York, wasn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoulda killed her right then and there, if she was gonna bring you into the mix.”  Micah paced around the room. It was clear now to Arthur he was in the sawmill facility.  The room was empty, save for the sharp tools meant for cutting wood. Maybe Sadie and Edward hadn’t been here yet.  Maybe they could help him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This ain’t a game, Micah-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Micah swerved on his heel and kicked his heavily booted foot into the pit of Arthur’s stomach.  Arthur doubled over, letting out a groan.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His day had started out so well, too.  This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> how he had thought it was going to end.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ain’t gonna kill you, black lung.  Or should I even call you that?” Micah leaned over and yanked Arthur’s head back by his hair, angered confusion on his face.  “You ain’t worth killin’ yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” Arthur’s face was inches from Micah’s own and he wanted to headbutt him away, but the man’s grip was too tight on his hair.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dutch won’t like it.  I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>close to havin’ him back completely, Arthur, for all you’ve done to ruin the relationship between me and Dutch.”  He pushed Arthur’s head away and stepped back. “You was always his favorite, his right hand man. You and your </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupidity</span>
  </em>
  <span> got in the way of me and Dutch accomplishin’ something meaningful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur could see Micah was on edge.  That last night on the mountain, when he and Micah had fought, there had been so much rage in Micah’s eyes.  So much madness. Micah cared for nothing but himself and to get the approval from Dutch, even to this day.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the plan, Micah?  Rob this town blind?” Arthur needed information, and in Micah’s anger, Micah was happy to oblige.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s just say your pretty little cowpoke </span>
  <em>
    <span>slut</span>
  </em>
  <span> is hangin’ with one of the richest men in this here town.  We’ve been watching him for some time, now. Less law up here; it’ll be easier getting to him.  If, for one second, Dutch finds out you survived, he’ll wanna see you. Alive.” Micah growled. “So we gonna leave you here until it’s all over, cowpoke.”  He motioned to his men. “Make sure he suffers a little. Leave him alive. If anyone is gonna kill him, it’ll be me.” Micah didn’t give Arthur a second glance as he stormed out of the sawmill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur struggled harshly against his restraints as the men approached.  He could withstand a beating. He would have to if he wanted to get out of this.  He wished Albert or Jamie would notice him missing, but feared it wouldn’t happen.  They would be too busy running around with wedding preparations.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the first kick landed against his ribs, he knew he was on his own.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Sadie</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day passed excruciatingly slow.  Sadie had been pleasantly surprised to find Arthur waiting for her as early as it was.  He had been dressed in his working clothes, his sleeves rolled up haphazardly, with his shirt left open to reveal a glance at his finely contoured muscles.  She had had to stop herself from staring. When she had last seen him nearly two years ago when he had been sickly, there was nothing to him - he had lost all muscle mass and an extreme amount of weight.  He had gained it all back, and then some. The difference was staggering and had worked highly in his favor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That morning he had done what she had been thinking of doing.  Guilt had ridden her all night and she’d barely caught a wink of sleep. If she hadn’t promised Edward she’d ride with him that day, she would have gone with Arthur so they could just talk more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She and Edward had stopped by the sawmill two days ago.  It had been a failed project, abandoned about five years or more. All it needed was a little bit of upkeep and within a few months, it’d be up and running.  They had several meetings today to buy it from the bank, discuss payroll and to hire someone to repair the place.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie sat in on the meetings, only listening here and there.  She was only there as a bodyguard, nothing more, and she did not want to get involved too deep.  Not when she couldn’t see herself staying employed by Edward for only another month or two, when he left New York.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was evening when they returned to the town and sat down to eat their dinner.  Sadie was quiet while the men chatted, lost in her own world. She still couldn’t believe Arthur had been alive.  She couldn’t deny how happy she was, how everything seemed to fall in place. There were months when she was living day by day, not ever allowing herself to think of the future. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now, she felt like it was possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The men dispersed back to their hotel rooms.  Sadie went to follow them into the building, but Edward called her back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Walk with me?” he asked.  He motioned down the road where few people lingered.  It was getting late; everybody was headed to their homes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Sadie said and followed him, shrugging on a light jacket.  Freckles was put away in a stable nearby. She was half tempted to saddle him up and take him for a night ride.  If she winded up on Arthur’s doorstep, so be it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have been meaning to ask, about this Atticus Adler,” Edward began in a pleasant tone.   “I want to know if you trust him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With my life,” Sadie affirmed.  “I know it may not look that way, considerin’ how angry I was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were married to him, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course Arthur had to choose her last name to make it more difficult.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  “No.  Just coincidence.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does this have something to do with your history with that outlaw you were talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie gave him a wry glance.  “You sure wanna know a lot, Edward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to understand who I’m dealing with, here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s to know?  You can trust him, not that you gotta deal with him much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something feels off, Sadie.  I know him from somewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie kicked at a tiny rock.  It cluttered down the street. “He’s old friends with Mary Linton.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward stilled and stopped in his tracks, recognition on his face.  “That’s what it was. I forgot her beau’s name back then. Of course.  He was the one Mary was gonna marry. He was an…” he paused and glared at Sadie.  “Just how long have you been dealing with outlaws, Sadie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None of your business,” she retorted.  “I ain’t involved in that, no more. And neither is he.  We moved on, Edward, and so should you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An outlaw is always an outlaw, Sadie!”  Edward reasoned. He paced away from Sadie, hands clenched in fists.  “I can’t believe for once you’d associate with them!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t by choice!” Sadie hissed.  “You want to know more about me, Edward?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Me and my husband lived in Ambarino.  His name was Jake Adler. We owned a ranch together, did everything together.  We taught each other how to survive. We had no one but ourselves and he was the love of my life.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Outlaws</span>
  </em>
  <span> killed him and I was captive for three days.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Three days</span>
  </em>
  <span>, before Arth-Atticus and his gang saved me.  My husband was shot in front of me. I witnessed my house burnin’ to the ground.”  She struggled to keep her voice calm. It was hard reliving the memories of what they had done to Jake and her.  She had worked so hard forgetting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had nothin’ to my name, no family to return to.  But these new outlaws rescued me, kept me safe. They gave me a home while I tried to sort myself out.”  Sadie let out a shaky breath. “I struggled to return back to who I was. I lived an outlaw life for a few months.  I ain’t a bad person, Edward, but I done some things, to avenge my husband. But everythin’ went to shit, and we scattered.  I resorted to bounty huntin’. I lost track of Atticus, thought he was dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward reached over and grabbed her hand.  “Sadie, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled her hand away slowly.  “It ain’t your problem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let it be,” Edward replied.  “I want to help you, Sadie. We work great together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward’s eyes darkened.  “This Atticus, he’s alive.  So, what. You’re going to run back to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes. </span>
  </em>
  <span> “He’s not an outlaw anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d be living a lie.  He left Mary for that outlaw life, Sadie, and he’d do the same to you.  Men like that just don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>change</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie shook her head and started walking away.  “You’ll never understand. Let’s leave it, Edward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward caught her by the arm and leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek.  “Sadie,” he pleaded.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want this,” she replied, her voice low but firm.  She shrugged off his grip and escaped to her hotel room. She wasn’t surprised Edward hadn’t given up on her.  He was a stubborn man, one she could not see herself with no matter the circumstance.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her night was restless once again.  The nightmares of those three days with the O’Driscolls haunted her dreams.  She hadn’t thought of it in a few months, but the anguish and pain was still there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wedding was to be held in the morning, so she was up at dawn and getting ready.  Her stomach was tight with nerves and lack of sleep. The thought of seeing Arthur again lifted her spirits and she pushed all the memories of the O’Driscoll’s away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She dressed into the same white and yellow gown she had worn a couple days ago.  She spent time on her hair, braiding and pinning it up in a messy but pretty bun.  She hadn’t fussed over her appearance since her wedding day to Jake. It made her feel like a teenager again and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once she was finished getting dressed, she grabbed her rifle and gun belt.  She wouldn’t carry it on her person. It’d stay on Freckles saddle as a last resort as she never went anywhere without it.  Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen Arthur with a pistol. That was different. Maybe it was his way of giving up the outlaw life, she wasn’t sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She went to the stable and found Edward’s horse missing.  He’d saddled up his horse and left without her. He was probably sour with her and she couldn’t blame him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pat, one of Edward’s bodyguards, walked into the stable and grabbed a brush for his horse.  He smoked a cigarette as he moved about slowly. “You didn’t ride with Edward?” he asked her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was gone when I got here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm…” Pat mumbled.  “That’s odd.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We had a small fight.”  Sadie hopped up on Freckles and adjusted her skirts.  “He’s probably angry with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not like him.  He’s not one to run away, Sadie, no matter how big the fight.”  Pat let out a puff of smoke and dropped the cigarette to the ground.  He snuffed it out with his boot. “You have your guns?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was serious, obviously thinking something could be wrong.  Sadie gripped the reins hard. “I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You go enjoy your day.  We’ll be making our rounds later.  You may have really messed with Edward’s feelings, who knows.  Maybe he’s all right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glared at him accusingly.  “How much do you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know enough.  Take care, Sadie.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She left, a bit unnerved.  He was right, though. Edward wouldn’t have left without alerting her or the other men.  She made Freckles hurry his pace, her gut uneasy. The day had started out beautiful, the sun high in the sky, promising a hot summer day.  Yet dark clouds lingered in the distance over the mountains, threatening to ruin the afternoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She arrived at the orchard, a handful of people already on the property.  White chairs were spread out in the front lawn, with a white garden trellis at the start of the orchard.  Beautiful lilies with a mix of flowers Sadie couldn’t place were laid out around the property. Each table was decorated with a bouquet and an elaborate dining set - they had gone all out for the decorations.  A heavy smell of grilled meat drafted from the house.   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She left Freckles by the stable and wandered around, looking for either Arthur and Edward.  She couldn’t find either of them in the crowds and was beginning to worry. She stopped by the gazebo she had found Arthur at the day before, and found it half repaired from the last time she had been there.  Tools lay around as if they were set aside. Arthur would have made sure to clean up after himself.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The farmhouse was crowded with people, all dressed in their best.  She maneuvered around until she spotted Albert in the kitchen, fiddling with his camera.  He wore a white shirt and black pants, the tie undone and hanging around his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mrs. Adler!” Albert grinned.  “I trust you’re here with Arthur?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m looking for him.  And Edward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t seen them?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie shook her head.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then.”  Albert looked out the window and frowned.  “I haven’t seen Arthur since yesterday. He didn’t come back home last night.  I assumed he was with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only saw him yesterday mornin’.”  She gritted her teeth. Something was very wrong.  “I’ll look for him. Don’t let Mary know, okay? I don’t want your day to be ruined.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur was…” Albert trailed off.  He was clearly worried. “... please, look for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie was out of the farmhouse and jumping on Freckles as fast as possible.  There was only one possible clue she had: Edward. She wasn’t worried about Edward going off to fight Arthur and getting in trouble.  No, it had to be the fear she had felt ever since she laid eyes on Dutch. Of course he’d seek out one of the richest men. Of course he’d have some sort of plan to get money.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would have to plan for the worst case scenario, and that was Dutch.  It would be double the trouble if Micah was with him. She wished beyond hope she was overthinking this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Dutch had known Arthur was alive, he’d want him out of the picture.  There was one place out of the way where they could take Edward or Arthur without prying eyes, and that was the nearby sawmill.  She pressed Freckles to gallop as hard as he could as she led him towards the town. She’d need backup, and Pat and his men were just the ones for this.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur woke up in a daze, his arms and legs still bound.  The room was dark and cold; he had been out for several hours.  He smacked his lips and ran his tongue around his dry mouth, tasting blood.  The last day had not been pleasant. The two men of Micah’s had been told to keep an eye on him and they were relentless in their jeers and fists.  The pain in Arthur’s chest told him his ribs might be heavily bruised or even worse. His limbs were dotted in black and blue bruises, but nothing was broken, aside from maybe his ribs.  Only his nose had been bloodied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His left eye was swollen from their fists, making his vision a blur.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crickets in the background were drowned out by men arguing from outside the building.  Arthur rolled to his back and sat up with a heavy groan. His two bodyguards opened one of the doors and dragged a limp body between them into the room.  They tossed the man to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Edward Maas, his head bloodied from where they had knocked him out.  One of the men left the room as Micah walked in, white fury on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We needed him uninjured!” Micah screamed at the one remaining bodyguard.  “Clean him up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man begrudgingly pulled out his pack and started cleaning up Edward’s face with some water and dirty rags.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur spoke with a groggy voice, “Gonna hold him for ransom?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cowpoke</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He’s gonna withdraw money for us and we’ll be on our way.  If these idiots didn’t mess him too much,” Micah snarled. He left the room and slammed the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Risky.  Sadie would catch wind of this real quick.  The man cleaning Edward’s face finished and left the room as well, leaving Arthur alone with Edward.  He nudged the unconscious man with his feet. “Mr. Maas, wake up, you sleepin’ fool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few more light kicks and Edward roused with a small groan, blinking confusedly.  He sat up awkwardly when he saw Arthur, his hands bound behind his back. “Mr. Adler.  You’ve looked better. I take it these are friends of yours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it look like they been treatin’ me like a friend, mister?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Had I known Sadie had been involved with outlaws-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This ain’t her fault,” Arthur cut in.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward let out a sigh.  “No, I guess not. I suppose these men want my money?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s about it.  They gonna make you withdraw money from the bank.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most of my cash is in Roseville, a few days ride from here.”  Edward tried pulling on the rope binding his hands and failed. “They don’t have much to threaten me with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have plenty,” Micah said, barging through the door, hand on his gun belt.  He held a cigarette in his other hand. “We gonna wait a few hours for the Mrs. Alder to arrive.  She and I had some unfinished business. And you, Arthur, will be just the one to capture their attention.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward froze.  “Arthur? Arthur Morgan, of the van der Linde gang?  It was in the papers you died.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The one and only, Dutch’s right hand man!” Micah jeered.  “Came back from the dead, didn’t you, Morgan? Always findin’ ways to sneak back in and distract Dutch from what matters.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur leveled a glare to the man. “Where is Dutch, then, if you keep talkin’ about him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll be here when he’s ready.  For now, we just gotta deal with the lady outlaw and those damn bodyguards.”  He stepped outside the office and called out to the men, “Grab the cowboy! We’ll get him set up outside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur didn’t like the sound of this. He struggled against the two men who grabbed him by the arms and got knocked in the nose with a butt of a rifle because of it.  Dazed, he was brought to the outside of the sawmill. He paled once he saw what was waiting for him: a makeshift noose hanging off a low, sturdy piece of wood from the upper deck of the sawmill.  One lone barrel stood underneath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your dear old daddy would be proud,” Micah taunted.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Never in Arthur’s life had he been in a situation like this.  He had always managed to avoid the noose, always outwitting the law and shooting his way out of it.  He’d even escaped Colm O’Driscoll and his gang. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It should be you hangin’ up there, Micah.  You always been a rat bastard,” Arthur said, pushing against the men dragging him to the barrel.  A third man cut the rope binding Arthur’s legs and pushed the noose around Arthur’s neck after a bit of struggle from Arthur.  They pulled on the rope, cutting off his air, until he voluntarily stepped up onto the barrel so he could breathe.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur felt dizzy, standing on the very item saving him from death.  The rope was tight around his neck. It would still be many hours until Sadie showed up - if she even did.  His heart was pounding against his chest and sweat poured down his face. He was truly at a lack of options.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Micah left him, guffawing to himself.  Only one of his men stood outside with Arthur, standing guard.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the more hours that passed, the more Arthur felt woozy.  His stomach growled from a lack of food, every twist of his torso pained his ribs, and his bladder was screaming something awful.  With the sun came a sweltering amount of heat. The day of Albert’s and Mary’s wedding - an event he was most definitely going to miss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smacked his lips, mouth dry from the lack of water.  The threat of the noose was enough to keep him awake, his attention focused on the road leading up to the sawmill.  The area had already been cleared of trees, leaving the road and land visible with only low brush and dirt. Several of Micah’s men - he had at least ten total - had made their way down the road to watch for anyone approaching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After at least twelve hours of standing on the barrel, Arthur saw Micah’s men riding back with the news of someone approaching.  Micah came out from the building, his two pistols in hand and a wild look on his face. His men took positions around the building.  There wasn’t much for cover besides the sawmill. It’d leave Sadie and the others at a disadvantage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Arthur’s relief and worry, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sadie riding Freckles, dressed in pants and her hair tied back, ready for action, with three other men beside her.  Not enough. Arthur felt sweat dripping down his back, from the heat and from the worried feeling in his gut. She’d be forced to lower her guns.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Micah had a pistol pointed at Arthur.  “Why, Mrs. Adler, so nice of you to finally join us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie, white faced, kept her pistol at her side, ready to draw at any moment.  “Micah. So you still alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Put down your gun, for christ sakes,” Micah yelled.  “You can see I have blacklung here. One wrong move from you, and not only does Mr. Morgan get killed, but we have Edward Maas as well.  Put down your weapons, and they won’t get hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do it,” Arthur croaked out.  He attempted to clear his throat.  “Sadie, please. It ain’t worth it.  He’s got more men here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We ain’t gonna let harm come to Mr. Maas,” one of Edward’s bodyguards said, an older fellow.  “Let’s put down our guns, Sadie. This isn’t how we can win this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur could see the argument on Sadie’s face.  Had there not been Edward to worry about as well, Sadie could have shot Micah within a heartbeat.  He knew she hated it. But this is what Micah seemed to love - manipulating people to create chaos.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie and the three men hopped off their horses, guns in their hands.  They set the weapons down in front of them and took a few steps back, defenseless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let them go now, Micah,” Sadie called out.  “We done what you ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, we ain’t done with the rich boy yet,” Micah began saying, looking up to Arthur, “but we sure are done with him.”  He leaned back and kicked the barrel from underneath Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It happened fast.  One split second, he fell through the air, the rope tightening around his neck and crushing his windpipe.  It was a bad noose - he hung for a few seconds, gasping for air, his lungs burning and his legs flailing around blindly as he tried to breathe.  A roar of screams and gunfire sounded and the next he was laying on the ground, taking deep, cackling gasps of air, breathing in a mixture of air and dirt.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone cut the rope around his wrists and neck and grasped his shirt, tugging him away.  He unconsciously saw it happen until a gunshot right above his head jerked him awake. He coughed, sucking in deep gulps of fresh air, then found himself staring into the hazel eyes of Sadie.  The right side of her head was drenched in blood.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached up and touched the blood splatter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a graze,” she said.  “Can you stand?” At his nod, she helped lift him up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She handed him a rifle - one he had gifted her years before - and he looked around at the scene unfolding.  There was one man wounded, still alive, one of Edward’s bodyguards. He lay propped up against the building, holding a rag to his shoulder.  Three of Micah’s men were dead, their blood soaking the dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Micah barricaded himself inside,” Sadie said, glaring at the sawmill.  “If he thought for one second we’d come here without a plan…” she shook her head, loathing on her face.  “There’s a few sheriffs who hung back, kept an eye out for us. They swept in once they saw things turn south.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone shot the noose,” Arthur said, his voice husky from his bruised throat.  “Was that you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.  It wasn’t one of our men, either,” she replied grimly.  “But I’m sure glad you have a thick neck, Arthur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadie stormed to the front of the building, Arthur on her heels.  “Micah, you listen to me,” she called out, yelling, “You bring Edward out here-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Men shouted from inside and several gunshots went off.  Sadie barged in, pistol ready, with Arthur and the other bodyguards following her inside.  Sadie downed one of Micah’s men who was attempting to escape through a backdoor, the door already open and Micah rushed out on his horse.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly, there had been some disagreement between Micah and his own men.  Micah’s men were done for - Sadie let out a curse and hurried to Edward’s side as he lay in a pool of his own blood.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s alive!” she shouted.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur bristled at the thought of Micah getting away.  He took off in a hurry, ignoring Sadie’s calls, and whistled for Freckles.  The horse, bless him, was at his side in a heartbeat and Arthur was up and chasing Micah, filled with fury.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freckles was the fastest horse Arthur had ever owned and never disappointed.  It was only a matter of minutes before Arthur was catching up to Micah, his rifle held steady in his hands.  It had been so long since he’d had to chase someone, much less shoot at someone from horseback. Still, as Micah pushed his horse across a tall bridge and looked back with his pistol, Arthur pulled the trigger to his rifle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Micah went flying off his horse and tumbled off the bridge into the river below.  The bullet had merely caught him in the shoulder; he’d still be alive, unless he drowned in the process.  Arthur didn’t leave it up to that. He stopped Freckles on the shoreline and hopped off, keeping his rifle pointed at a sputtering Micah.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Micah regained his footing on the rocky riverbed, completely drenched, his shoulder soaked in blood.  He stood with the water up to his waist. His eyes were furious as he became aware of the rifle pointed at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is glorious,” he said in a low growl.  “Who’d have thought you would gain the upper hand, cowpoke?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Every single plan of yours, Micah, runs sour,” Arthur retorted.  “You ain’t ever been that smart. This-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Micah started laughing as a click of a gun cocking behind Arthur caught his attention.  He stilled and felt the cool metal of a pistol pressed up against his neck.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Put the gun down, son,” Dutch van der Linde said, his voice calm and collected.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I ain’t gonna do that,” Arthur responded.  A rush of memories of the last moment between he and Dutch rushed over him and he gritted his teeth.  He felt nauseous. “This is done, Dutch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m... </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to ask how you’re alive.  Clearly, you’ve made something of yourself since I last saw you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoot him, Dutch, and we’ll get out of here.” Micah waded up to the shoreline slowly.  “My horse ain’t too far away, and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gunshot sounded, causing Arthur to jump.  Micah sputtered and looked down at his chest to the blood blossoming on his shirt.  “Dutch,” he said once, his voice strangled, then fell backwards into the water with a loud splash, an expression of disbelief on his white face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur peered back over his shoulder, catching a small glimpse at the dark haired older man who was once a very prominent father figure.  A man he would never understand. The eyes that had once felt so wise, so kind and understanding - nothing but a raging, cool fury remained. The chilling feel of the gun returned to the back of his neck.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember this, son,” Dutch started.  “You’re already dead. I was not going to allow Micah to kill you a second time.  I am still very much alive, and wherever I am, the Pinkertons will be there too. Consider this a parting gift.  We won’t be seeing each other again.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that said, there was a hard blow to the back of Arthur’s head, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Epilogue </em>
</p><p>A few days later, Arthur stood in his room, admiring the bruises around his eyes and ribs.  They had turned yellow, but still marked most of his upper torso. There was a line of bruises around his neck from the noose.  It would take another week or two until he looked like his old self again. It still astounded him that it was Dutch who had saved him from the noose.. </p><p>Arthur had returned the night of the wedding, right after everyone had departed.  Sadie had found him by the river, unconscious, with a dead Micah floating in the water.  Dutch was nowhere to be found. There was nothing to do but return home, albeit slowly because of his injuries.  The sheriffs promised to clean up the mess, and that was that.</p><p>Mary and Albert had been relieved to see him and Mrs. Mason had been ready to skin him alive for disappearing on the wedding day.  They didn’t ask many questions, which Arthur was grateful for. He was hungry, dehydrated, bruised, and plainly exhausted. He hadn’t wanted to chat.  The next morning, Albert and Mary left for their month-long honeymoon traveling through state borders and Mr. and Mrs. Mason departed for New York. Arthur was left mostly alone in the farmhouse.  Jamie made himself scarce, keeping himself busy on the farm.</p><p>Life on the farm was quiet.  Sadie had wanted to return to him, but Arthur had persuaded her to stick with Edward.  The man had been critically wounded in the scuffle; once he was out of the woods, they were to escort him down to Roseville, where he could recover over the next few weeks.</p><p>Which meant Arthur didn’t get to see Sadie.  It bothered him; he wanted nothing more than to see how she was doing.</p><p>He dressed in working clothes and left his room, feeling oddly lonely..  </p><p>The weeks passed as usual as he gradually returned to working on the farm, waiting for any letter or news to arrive.  </p><p>One evening when he was sitting in his finished gazebo, staring into the sunset while drinking a glass of whiskey and drawing in his journal, Jamie stopped by to see him.  </p><p>“I have a proposal for you,” he said.</p><p>Arthur chuckled and shook his head as he swallowed a strong bite of whiskey.  “You a handsome fellow, but I’m afraid I have to refuse.”</p><p>“Christsakes, no, Arthur, listen.” Jamie held up a piece of paper.  “I bought the orchard farm a few miles from here.”</p><p>“Oh, good for you.  I know you’ve had your eye on that.”</p><p>“I’m moving there.  I’d like to offer you partnership for Gillis Orchard.  This farmhouse is basically yours - you’ve put so much work into it.  And you don’t have to say yes yet. Here.” Jamie handed Arthur a piece of paper.  “This is the deed to the house. It’s yours. Mary, Albert, and I all agree.”</p><p>“I can’t accept this-” Arthur began to decline.</p><p>“Oh, and here’s a letter from the Mrs. Adler.  See you around, Arthur,” Jamie grinned and tossed him a letter.  He left before Arthur could get any more words in.</p><p>A bit blindsided, Arthur opened up the letter and devoured the contents.  Sadie was on her way - due to arrive by train three days from now, with John, Abigail, and Jack.  The process of finishing up the sawmill nearby had gone quite smoothly, and a job awaited John when he arrived.  Great - Arthur would have to keep the hot-headed fool Marston was from getting in over his head. John never worked a legal job in his life.  But maybe he could change. He had to, if he wanted to keep Abigail and Jack safe.</p><p>Still, having a chance to see John, Abigail, and Jack again… it was too good to be true.  John was still a wanted man, but if Dutch had spoken true, the Pinkertons wouldn’t be looking for him up here.  They’d be following Dutch - any noise from John or Arthur could ruin whatever peace they had. </p><p>He’d do whatever it took to protect John and Abigail.  Especially since Dutch had chosen to leave him alive.  </p><p>The next day he left for town to pick up supplies in preparation for Sadie’s and the others arrival.  He picked up a few candies for Jack and some other items in short supply at home. It was only a few days until Sadie arrived.  He couldn’t wait. In the meanwhile, Jamie was throwing a party to celebrate Albert and Mary’s return and had invited the nearby farmers and townspeople to the farmhouse.  Arthur would be back home just in time to change and suffer a night with strangers.</p><p>A brown haired man bumped into his shoulder.  Arthur shared glares with the older man, who didn’t bother apologizing.  There was nothing special about the man except the unwashed smell about him.</p><p>Arthur pursed his lips.  Something didn’t feel right.  “You gonna apologize, mister?” he asked him.</p><p>“Leave it alone,” the man barked back and shoved out the front door, pulling his redheaded toddler with him.  The toddler looked back at Arthur, a tiny red prominent birthmark on his eye. </p><p>Arthur stilled.  It was- no. It couldn’t be.</p><p>A woman’s frantic voice filled the store, startling him.  She was demanding from the clerk the whereabouts of her son.  Arthur looked up and found a young woman with brown hair storming around the store.  She looked familiar - <em> shit. </em>  That had been Francis Sinclair and this was his mother currently and frantically looking for her son. </p><p>Arthur didn’t hesitate.  He dropped all his groceries and chased after the brown haired man who was only a few paces ahead of him, heading to his horse.  He ran as fast as he could until he jumped and tackled the man, bringing him down to the ground. It was a fast fight; the man was not a fighter and a fist to the face knocked him senseless.</p><p>Francis was sobbing, having been tossed in the process.  Arthur hesitantly picked up the kid and patted his back. The scuffle had drawn out a small crowd, including the sheriff of the town.  “Here, sheriff. This man tried to kidnap the kid.”</p><p>“Sick bastard,” the older sheriff said.  “I’ll deal with him.”</p><p>“Francis!” the mother sobbed, running out of the store.  She swooped the child from Arthur’s arms. “Oh my lord, thank you thank you!” </p><p>“Ma’am,” Arthur said.  He tipped his hat and went to purchase his groceries.  He left without another word to anyone, wanting to leave it at that.  The whole Sinclair matter was confusing at best, and he didn’t want to complicate it further.  The toddler Francis Sinclair was safe, and that’s what mattered.</p>
<hr/><p> Arthur went to the orchard farm, taking a stroll to get his mind off things.  Sun rays drifted through the trees, lighting the dust in a golden light. The farm was ready - everything was painted, finished, garden was weeded, orchard trees were flourishing - and the party Jamie was throwing was well underway.  Arthur had dressed for the occasion, wearing his dark blue paragon hat, matching blue jacket with the silver cufflinks gifted to him by Albert, dark pants, and a black and blue opulent vest. He had gone to the barber and had his hair trimmed and slicked with pomade, and his beard was finely styled.</p><p>Arthur felt nervous.  He hadn’t accepted the deed to the house yet.  There were unsaid matters at hand, and it didn’t feel right.</p><p>Dutch rested on the back of his mind.  He figured he would never see the man again.  Dutch was too immersed in the outlaw way of life and no matter of words or actions would stop him.  Hosea had been the wiser of the two. He had seen the outlaw life ending and he had been killed for going along with Dutch’s way of life.  </p><p>Arthur wouldn’t be surprised to read about Dutch one day in the newspaper, but he suspected it wouldn’t be for a very, very long time.  </p><p>The spare rooms were made up for John and Abigail, and they would have a room there until they could find a place.  This was a new chance for them and Arthur would do his best to see them right.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Arthur stopped pacing and looked up.  Sadie stood in the shade of an apple tree, her hands clenched at her sides.  She wore a brilliant blue dress with white trimmings, her hair curled about her shoulders.  There was a tired look about her, yet happiness radiated from her, her smile wide and true.</p><p>“I thought you weren’t arrvin’ until tomorrow-” Arthur stammered.</p><p>“I got my dates mixed up,” she grinned.  “John and Abigail are waitin’ at the house for you.  Jack is about over the moon about seein’ you, you know.”</p><p>Arthur found himself moving closer to her, hands itching to pull her closer.  “How long will you be stayin’?”</p><p>“As long as you want me here.”</p><p>Arthur couldn’t resist.  He reached out and took her hands in his, staring at them as if she was merely a figment of his imagination.  No - she was real, standing in front of him, one of the most beautiful sights he could have ever imagined.  </p><p>“I have so much to tell you,” he said, his voice low.  He flicked his eyes up to meet hers. “Sadie, they offered me the farmhouse.  I’d be a partner with Jamie, have a run of the place. There’s a life here. And no, it ain’t bounty huntin’, and I don’t know how you would feel about stayin’ here-”</p><p>“Arthur, what are you askin’?” she asked with a small smile.</p><p>“What I’m askin’-”  Arthur let go of her hands and dug into his pocket, ignoring the rushing in his ears as his heart beat fast.  All sounds of nature were blocked out as he fumbled to grab the small container in his pocket. “I wanna keep my promise with you and do this proper.  I sure wasn't expectin’ to do this tonight, but…” he pulled out a tiny box and opened it, revealing a golden ring. “We could start new, Sadie, right here.  I ain’t no replacement for your Jake. These past few years I have done nothin’ but think of you… I love you, Sadie Adler. I love how fierce you are, how terrifyin’ you are.  I can’t see myself here long, not without you.”</p><p>A red blush settled over Sadie’s freckles and she held out her hand, free of her old wedding ring.  “Yes,” she said, her voice only a whisper, “there ain’t no other man I can see myself with, Arthur. I do love you-”</p><p>Arthur leaned in and caught her lips in his, pulling her closer to him as she pressed against him.  The first kiss was everything he had imagined: exhilarating, soft, full of passionate love. He pulled away and covered her cheek in small kisses, causing her to let out a soft laugh.  He slid the ring on her finger and kissed her fiercely. A smell of fresh perfume and flowers filled his nostrils as he held her close, the sounds of birds chirping and bees buzzing around them, only adding to what was a beautiful and sunny afternoon.  </p><p>When they pulled away a few moments later, red faced and hearts thumping from nervousness and excitement, Sadie grasped his hands and pulled him towards the farmhouse.  They stayed quiet, silently grinning at each other, knowing they had all the time in the world to catch up what they’ve missed - for now, it was time to see the people Arthur had been missing from his life.</p><p>As he caught sight of John, Abigail, and Jack, he could see his future clearly, full of joy, laughter, family, friendships - a life worth living.  His eyes became blurred as he neared them, his heart full and bursting at the seams, ready to start his next adventure.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the Shade of an Old Apple Tree</p><p>by Harry Williams and Egbert Van Alstyne, written in 1905</p><p> </p><p>In the shade of the old apple tree</p><p>When the love in your eyes I could see</p><p>When the voice that I heard, like the song of the bird</p><p>Seemed to whisper sweet music to me</p><p>I could hear the dull buzz of the bee</p><p>In the blossoms as you said to me</p><p>With a heart that is true, I'll be waiting for you</p><p>In the shade of the old apple tree</p><p>In the shade of old apple tree</p><p>(Apple tree)</p><p>When the love in your eyes I could see</p><p>(I could see)</p><p>Mama, when the voice that I heard, like the song of the bird</p><p>Seemed to whisper sweet music to me</p><p>(Music to me)</p><p>I could hear the dull buzz of the bee</p><p>(Buzz of the bee)</p><p>In the blossoms as you said to me</p><p>(Said to me)</p><p>Mama, with a heart that is true, I'll be waiting for you</p><p>Yes, shade of the old apple tree </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!  I loved every single comment and am so happy people enjoyed reading this.  I included the song that the fanfic title is based on. It’s so lovely! Arthur/Sadie is so fun to write, and I feel like there is still more to write about them.  They only deserve the absolute best. Take care and be safe out there, readers! &lt;3 </p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have this idea that's been floating in my head and I'm trying to write it out, and of course, it's another alternate ending.  Ah well.</p><p>This work is titled after the song In the Shade of an Old Apple Tree by The Mills Brothers.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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